


Of Coffee and Princes

by Willowanderer



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Ableism, Acephobia, Alchahol, Alternate Worlds, Animal people, Animals, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Army, Blood, Bruises, Classism, Coffee, Communal Bathing, Depression, Drinking, Drug Use, Excessive World Building, Fantasy Epic, Fantasy Politics, Fantasy Racism, Food, Gaslighting, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Gore, Hate Crimes, Horses, Kidnapping, Kissing, Knives, M/M, Magic, Memory Alteration, Moths, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Ocean, Off Screen Death, Pining, Politics, Polyamory, Remus typical dialouge, SCA - Freeform, Scarring, Self Sacrifice, Sexual Jokes, Sexual Situations, Shapeshifting, Slavery, Snakes, Soldiers, Spiders, Step-parents, Storms, Suicide mention, Swearing, Swords, Tattoos, Thunder - Freeform, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, War, Weapons, aromantiscism, boner mention, dragon - Freeform, lightining, mentions of kinks, mentions of teenage sexuality, metamores, mood alteration, non consentual drug use, non-sexual nudity, not perhaps the best parenting, on screen death, poorly negotiated polyamory, sailing ships, schrodinger's dead mom, simulated violence, so much kissing guys, these boys are idiots, this is a brick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 216,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowanderer/pseuds/Willowanderer
Summary: Logan Lehrer is a man who likes his schedule and structure, even if it included an hour a day to certainly not admire the scenery at the local cafe. That’s out of reach now that he’s found himself trapped in a storybook with the red-eyed man who claims to be the twin of a certain handsome barista. Now he has to cope with fairies, bar fights, sharing very small beds with handsome men, and the growing realization that even once he escapes the storybook, this adventure is only beginning.After all, the man who makes his coffee and doesn’t manage to make eye contact without blushing is apparently the Lost Prince of Sanders.Written for the Big Bang 2020, I was partnered with yikes-virgil and forgot to link the art which is a damn pity!https://yikes-virgil.tumblr.com/post/628018457373540352/ts-storytime-heres-my-submission-for-the-sanders
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, I'm not tagging all the freindships I STG, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Morality | Patton Sanders & Everyone
Comments: 98
Kudos: 84
Collections: Storytime! 2020





	1. .Book One.

It was almost time. 

Roman could almost set his watch by how regular this regular was. He didn’t wear a watch, but that wasn’t the point. The point was the incredibly handsome caffeine addict with the regular schedule that made the morning shift worth it. Handsome, built, put together, environmentally conscious- his reusable mug was always washed properly which wasn’t something everyone could say, sadly. He got his drink and a muffin, he sat down, he worked for an hour, during which he ate the muffin with a delicacy that should not be possible- seriously, how did he not get crumbs on his keyboard? He got a second drink- same as the first- black and sweet- and left. Now, lines and other, less regular customers changed the timing a bit once he was inside the Café but he always arrived at the same time. And Roman loved every minute he was there because he was just so damn decorative. Cheekbones, strong jaw, dark eyes, hair that reached past the collars of his well ironed shirts arranged into neat braids, calm, unruffled expression that begged to be taken apart with passionate kisses on those lips, and other places. Or maybe he was just Roman’s type. Hard to say. 

Well, his best friend Virgil agreed that his description  _ did  _ sound pretty hot, but his schedule had never matched up for him to come in and bug Roman while Dr. Dark and Hotty was there. While it was perfectly reasonable to spend a good half hour drooling over a customer in the privacy of his own head, Roman wasn’t enough of a creep to take a picture of someone who wasn't aware of it. Especially when it would become some tempting late night inspiration. It was bad enough already. He did daydream about him ordering a latte and Roman getting his attention with his mad foam-art skills, but that was a pretty normal fantasy Roman thought. Well, compared to somehow coming upon him outside of work and rescuing him from a poorly-defined danger, at least. 

Coffee shop AUs aside, hitting on a customer was only  _ slightly  _ less tacky than hitting on someone who was working, and so Roman was trying to just pine from afar. Make him a kind of muse, mentally dress him up and serenade the idea of him. Okay maybe he was a  _ little  _ obsessed. But he’d been coming in for months and Roman hadn’t even learned his  _ name _ ! Sure he could have asked, but that would have ruined the mystery, the dream- the romantic ideal- the fun. Once he had a name he was a person, not a dream. Roman had had lousy enough luck with relationships to be willing to let him stay a day dream for as long as possible; but was smitten enough to want to know if his name was as pretty as he was. Look, no one ever claimed that Roman was decisive. That was probably why he was the assistant manager at a coffee shop instead of anything else. He’d kind of accidentally worked his way up from barista because it was easier than finding a new job. Sure it was customer service, but it was locally owned, so the owner didn’t mind them standing up to the occasional customer with entitlement issues. It was a college town, so they had plenty of business, and of course, plenty of eye candy. Tall, dark and caffeinated wasn’t even the only piece, just Roman’s current favorite. If he was being honest, his friend Virgil could easily fall into that category, if you liked them made of sass and spite. Or if you hadn’t met him, just boy-pretty. Like K-Popstar pretty, though since he was mostly Fillipino, describing him like that would probably lead to at least threatened bodily harm. 

Just the other week, Roman had joked that the two of them together was more than enough eye candy to bring in customers on their own. Virgil had made a disgusted face, saying if they were starting host services, he demanded a union, but didn’t stop hanging around. Roman was his best friend, even if they liked to argue. They were opposites in a lot of ways, but the same in just as many. They even had similar jobs, Virgil being a bartender, which was like being a barista, only with alcohol, and being hit on slightly more. Roman would sometimes hang out in the bar Virgil worked, just continuing their banter from one job to the next. 

They hadn’t always gotten along. In fact in college, when they’d been assigned as roommates, the RA had actually been taking bets on if they’d kill each other or hook up first. Their fiery arguments had cooled to coals that they roasted each other over without ever hitting either extreme. By the end of college they couldn’t picture living with anyone else, they’d just gotten too used to each other's habits, from Roman’s sleep-talking to Virgil’s weird obsession with knives. Virgil insisted it wasn’t weird, that dull knives were more dangerous than sharp knives and so keeping knives sharp was perfectly reasonable, and if a knife was too cheap to hold an edge it deserved an inglorious end. Roman insisted it was weird if Virgil ended up sharpening knives in the middle of the night because he couldn’t sleep. Virgil always countered that anyone who owned more than one sword had no right to make fun of him. Roman didn’t really have an answer for that. He owned several swords after all, of varying styles and types. That number had only increased since college. Virgil had only thrown one out when he discovered he couldn’t give it an edge, and he’d apologized afterwards and promised to not try and sharpen Roman’s swords without permission, since most of them weren’t really intended to be used anyway. 

He did have to admit watching his saber go through those watermelons like that was awesome. Youtube had liked it too. It never would have done that before Virgil sharpened it. 

Here it came, the dip in between the morning rush and the lunch rush and Roman looked up from wiping down the espresso machine a second before the door opened and the most regular of regulars entered the sunny space that was Coffee and Tea Café. Sunlight gleamed off the lenses of his glasses, danced along the neat rows of braids that were gathered back away from his face and practically caressed his dark skin. Roman swallowed down his dreamy sigh. Remy shoved the dark blue reusable cup at him, drawing him out of a day dream that he probably should not have been having at work. 

“Order up, Romeo.” he said. “Do I need to repeat it, or do you have it?”   
“I’ve got it.” Roman said guiltily, shifting over to fill the cup, taking that extra bit of care to melt the sugar with a bit of hot coffee before adding the rest. He turned to the counter where he was waiting. “Here you are~!” Roman said cheerfully.

“Thank you.” The response was measured and automatic, but it was such a nice voice. He didn’t even respond to Roman’s brilliant smile with a smile of his own, just taking the cup and plate and moving over to his regular table. 

“Alright Hans,” Remy snorted, smacking Roman’s ass lightly to get his attention. “I’m taking my break. You can have yours when I get back, so maybe you can actually talk to him instead of staring at him like an idiot.” 

“I do not have to listen to that from you.” Roman rolled his eyes at his coworker, who was such a useless gay he should have it tattooed on his ass so everyone would know what they were dealing with, and who had his own crush. 

“Girl, I know their name, and talk to their perfect adorable face, the fact I haven’t told them I fantasize about holding their hand is just smeared lip gloss.” 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” 

Remy flipped him off under the counter where the customers couldn’t see, and pulled off his apron, leaving it on the hook. Roman moved to the front counter, and tried not to be obvious about taking in his daily dose of eye candy. 

“Hey. Hey. Hey.” There was a rapid patter of fingers on the counter, and Roman put his attention on it. “Ro. Bean me.” 

Roman looked over at another repeat customer, this time one he knew personally. 

“No, Andy.”

“This is a terrible use of ‘reserving the right to refuse service’.” Lightly built, which was only partially disguised by his oversized spiked jacket, Andy’s hair was pulled up into a topknot, sides shaved, but that didn’t stop escapee hairs from partially obscuring his dark-lined eyes, which if anything accentuated the bags. “That’s for like, nazis and homophobes.”

“And freshmen who are going to give themselves heart attacks. You’ve had three cappuccinos since you came in. Your brother will kill me. You remember what happened last time.”

“Okay, so here’s a thought- we don’t tell him, since it’s none of his business.” 

“Do you think for  _ one instant _ Virgil wouldn’t find out? I don’t know where he’s hiding his cameras, but they’re effective.” 

“Now he’s making  _ you  _ paranoid.”

“He  _ always  _ finds out, Andy.” Roman argued. “It’s not paranoia if it’s facts. How about you eat something instead? I'll ring you up a sandwich on my employee discount.” 

“Not hungry. Want coffee.” Andy pouted, really showing the resemblance between himself and his older brother. “How about a latte?” 

“You’d be hungry if you drank less coffee. And thus, less of a twig. You could support all the studs on your jacket.” 

“You don’t give Remy a hard time about how much he drinks.”

“Okay, first off, he’s not my problem, thank god, second off he switches off with tea.”

“He does not, he drinks iced coffee and tells you it’s tea.” 

“Are you going to order or argue?” said someone behind Andy. Roman took the woman’s order, filled it, and handed it over with a smile that did nothing for the tip jar. Andy resumed his assault. 

“Bean me, Roman.” he whined. “I have two essays to write, and I’m out of fuel.” 

“No beans without brunch.” Roman said firmly. Andy flung himself on the counter dramatically. 

“But I’m dying, squirtle. One of these essays is due for this afternoon’s class.” 

Roman winced, but tried to stay firm. A hand landed on his shoulder and he glanced back, having to smile when he saw who it was. Not everyone smiled at the presence of their boss. Roman was just lucky. 

“Hello Andy.”

“Hi Mr. Foster.” Andy didn’t move from his dramatic collapse. “Make your stupid employee do his job and give me coffee please.”

“Now now.” Mr Foster tsked, booping Andy’s nose. “Roman isn’t stupid. Don’t say hurtful words.” 

“Okay, make your hot employee dispense hot coffee as is his reason for employment.” Andy removed himself from the counter. He even stood up straight. Mr Foster had that effect on people. Solidly built at six foot plus, the owner of Coffee and Tea Café was also the owner of the most strikingly piercing blue eyes Roman had ever seen. He had smile lines in skin the color of polished wood, and his hair and neat beard were completely silver, making him look older than he probably was. Not that he ever gave a straight answer about how old he was, because as he joked he’d never done anything straight in his life. Bad jokes aside, he projected an aura that just made people want to make him proud. Which was a good trick, since many people would see the ink visible on his neck and lower arms and form a negative opinion based solely on that. 

“You really should finish your work in a more timely fashion, or you’re gonna get put in time out.” Nudging Roman away from the drink station he started making something. 

“Aw, Mr. Foster, don’t you remember being in college?”

“Bold of you to assume I went to college.” he raised one silver eyebrow, appearing over the rim of his thick glasses. 

“You look like you did. All smart and stuff.” Andy said, clearly trying to butter him up. Mr Foster just laughed. 

“Well it’s not good to judge someone by their looks, is it?” 

“What else am I supposed to judge them on?” Andy looked confused. 

“‘By their deeds shall you know them’.” He offered a drink across the counter. “Roman, sweetie can you grab one of those BLTs with cheese?” 

“Yes sir.” Roman laughed, and grabbed one of the wax-paper wrapped sandwiches. 

“So, try this, would you? It’s something I’m working on and I’d like your opinion. And here’s some tasty bacon-brain food to speed up your typing.” 

Andy took the drink, which was cool and milky. He sipped it critically. 

“Oh man that’s sweet!”

“Too sweet?” 

“No just… sweet.” he licked his lips and tried another sip. “What’s in this? There’s like, spice, but smokey and sweet?”

“Toasted caramel chai, iced. There’s clove and cinnamon in there, along with the black tea.” 

“Black tea just wants to be coffee and is lying to itself.” Andy protested, but took another sip. He accepted the sandwich Roman passed him as well. Roman started putting the tray of wrapped sandwiches that Mr Foster had brought out into the cooler, getting ready for the lunch rush. 

“Well, chai’s another thing anyway.” Mr Foster pointed out. “But what do you think?” 

“Whipped cream improves everything.” with a ridiculously hopeful look he held the glass out. It got the reaction he wanted, a towering squirt of whipped topping. “Mnn. Right, yes, this is good, you might try it like a smoothie? With vanilla ice cream, or just crushed ice I dunno.” 

“Adding ice cream would just make it sweeter.” 

“What’s your point?” the college student smirked. “I never said the sweet was bad. Especially for a bitter bean like me. Thanks Mr. Foster. I’ll be sure to eat too. Promise.” 

Mr Foster held out one hand, and wiggled the pinky, the tattoo of a vine that wound around it visible. Andy rolled his eyes, but did hook pinkys. It was a small price for a drink. 

“I swear, it’s like you adopted him.” Roman snorted.

“Yep!” He smiled at Roman. “Because you’re my boy, and you adopted him.” 

“I- I didn’t adopt him!” Roman sputtered. “I’m just looking out for him for Virgil.”

“Aw, Sir Roman, you looking out for me?” Andy fluttered his lashes. “Do I need to interrogate you about your intentions for my big bro?” 

“M’not a sir.” Roman mumbled. “Write your damn essay.” 

“Whatever you say ma’am.” Andy gave a lazy salute, walking away, back to where he’d left his laptop. 

“That’s not what I meant!” he sighed, and drooped a little. 

“Oh I know, it’s part of your historical reenactment thing, right?” Mr Foster asked, putting together another one of the chai drinks. 

“Yeah.” Roman sighed. “I’m not even a squire or a lord, let alone a knight. Someday though. I know it!” 

“I hope it’s worth all the bruises.” 

“Yeah.” Roman grinned a little. “It is and it will be!” 

“Here, you try it too.” 

Roman sipped at the offered drink. 

“I think the vanilla would mellow out the spice.” he offered. “But this is good- another one of those drinks people could come here special for.” 

Mr Foster smiled, half hidden in his beard. If he let it get out of hand, it would easily make him look like Santa Claus, with his twinkling eyes and near constant smile, but he tended to keep it neatly trimmed. Except around Christmas where he played it up, though he’d be a pretty fit Kris Kringle. People into the silver fox type would be lining up to be naughty. Clearly there was some kind of eldritch spell on the Café pulling in attractive people. Roman snorted to himself as he thought that, his smile getting a little bigger and more genuine as he made the next drink. 

“Whazzup?” Remy asked, sliding back into work. “Did he smile?”

“Remy, please. He hasn’t even looked up since he sat down.” Roman replied.

“Then what’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Sugar mostly.” He offered the half-finished drink to Remy who immediately took a pull at the straw. 

“You know that it’s creepy that you know that he hadn’t looked up, right?” 

“I wasn’t watching him the entire time!” Roman protested, snatching the drink back. “He just never does.” 

“Just accept your stalker title, Edward.” 

“I have never been so insulted in my  _ LIFE _ .” Roman squawked and threw his apron at Remy’s head. “I’m on break.” 

“Come back soon so I can top it.” Remy called after him. Roman pretended to ignore him, taking his drink to the back to settle in with his phone. Remy managed to catch his eyes once more and rolled them towards the handsome regular who was packing up for the day. Roman gave a quick shake of his head and ducked back into his socail media. There was an event this weekend with a tourney, less than an hour away. He shot off a message to Virgil asking if he wanted to go with him. They’d be back in time for the evening shift. 

21panics>Maybe. but just because you tormented andy.

Princeless>Andy deserves it, always and you know it.

21panics>who said it was a punishment?

21panics>besides, andy said he had a date and so we should give him space to get shot down.

Princeless>we’re the most supportive brothers.

21panics>you’d be a terrible brother.

21panics>and you’re not actualy andy’s brother

Princeless>next you’ll be telling me you’re not my brother

21panics>I’m not

Princeless>I am shocked! Shocked! My own brother is disavowing me. 

21panics>we come from opposite sides of the entire fucking giant-ass land mass.

Princeless>I thought you came from Niceville.

21panics>yeah, opposite town. 

21panics>How’s your crush?

Princeless>Leaving.

Roman watched him get a refill and head out the door. The weather was warm enough he was just wearing a dress shirt and Roman could just make out the movement of the muscles on his back. 

Princeless>Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.

21panics>your disgusting. why do we hang out?

Princeless>because neither of us have other friends.

21panics>did not expect you to call yourself out like that.

21panics>I’m an antisocail asshole, what’s your excuse?

Princeless>you caught me. I’m actualy from another dimension and I’m here to steal hearts. 

Princeless>I’m just very bad at it.

21panics>I knew it!

Princeless>I got yours tho

21panics>only because I told you where I buried it when I was drunk.

21panics>anyway you’re a creep. Perving on this poor innocent guy

Princeless>I’m not perving!

Princeless> I’m expressing aesthetic appreciation for fine art!

21panics>That’s what you said about me- holy fuck

21panics>I’m backing out of any room you’re in from now on

21panics>butt pirate

Princeless>Jokes on you, your face is better than your ass.

There were dancing dots in the chat for over a minute. 

Princeless>And your ass is about as nice as you are.

21panics>you see I don’t have any idea what to say to that.

21panics>so I’m just going to start bitching about the fact that I don’t even have a shift on saturday

21panics>just EVERY OTHER DAY THIS DAMN WEEK

21panics>like that makes up for the lack of saturday tips.

Princeless>I’ll see if there’s space for the feast then, my maladjusted madragil

Shooting off an email, Roman finished his drink and pocketed his phone, feeling the buzz as Virgil continued to vent his spleen about his boss. His break was over, his muse had departed, and lunch rush was about to start. The rest of his shift stretched out in front of him in dull monotonous glory. Make coffee, smile, make change, smile, rinse, repeat. Well, at least he had something to look forward to for the weekend. 

  
  


Logan Lehrer had an organised life. Many might- and in fact had- called it dull. 

He liked it like that. 

Life was organic, and therefore, inherently messy, so it suited him to keep his life as organised as it could be. He woke up at the same time every day. He ate yogurt, toast with jam, and fruit for breakfast. He went to the gym, where he used the treadmills and resistance machines while listening to audio books. Then he got a small snack and a cup of coffee- black four sugars- and worked on his personal projects for a half an hour before going to work, with a second cup of coffee, since the coffee at his office was, at best, mediocre, so after those two cups, he switched to water. There was more than enough chaos inherent in IT work to fulfill any need for further variations, and if he felt the need, he had scheduled in acceptable alternatives, mostly in his dining habits, such as cereal, several flavors of jam, different kinds of muffins, and occasionally beat poetry. After work, he would return home and read or otherwise consume media. Then, at eleven, he would go to bed. Ten would probably be more optimal, but no matter when he went to sleep he loathed mornings, and his work shift started at eleven thirty and ran until eight, so it was fine. 

Two days a week he went grocery shopping. For a while, he had taught English as a Second Language twice a week as well. That and getting his hair maintained monthly provided him any positive human interaction that his job did not. Very occasionally, he would allow himself to be convinced to join in bonding activities with his co workers, which reminded him why he didn’t. On most weekends, he spent his time alone in his apartment, indulging in his hobbies, taking online courses, painting miniatures, and restoring books. On weekends where one was available, he would visit the local farmers markets, flea markets, and rummage sales. About once a month he would try a new dish or restaurant to stimulate his intellectual growth. Variables to sustain the schedule, schedule set and comfortable, all in all Logan was satisfied with his life. 

A little under a year ago he’d been transferred, and forced to adjust his schedule appropriately. It wasn’t bad. His new apartment was pleasing because he now didn’t have to share space with a roommate, even if it was smaller. The new city was larger than the last, temperate, and clean. There was a branch of the same gym he’d belonged to before within walking distance, so he didn’t have to get a new membership. After a thorough round of research and one or two missteps, he found a salon that specialized and had hair dressers that were just as willing to talk about literature as popular gossip, even if their bar for literature was somewhat lower than his. He’d located the local farmers markets and flea markets, and even browsed a few thrift shops, which were fascinating if a trifle malodorous. He was settling in fairly well in his new location, and it was becoming comfortably routine again. 

Recently, he’d found a Café with delicious coffee and baked goods that was also clean and pleasant. To be fair, it was more than pleasant. The seats were incredibly comfortable, it was decorated with bookshelves and plants for the most part, and the baked goods were made on premises, so it smelled delightful. And for whatever reason, at least in the late-morning shift he frequented after his gym visits, the staff was  _ gorgeous _ . Good looking enough that one might expect it to be a host club, not a Café. 

Logan was human after all, and pleasing surroundings were good for stress levels. Coffee and Tea Café was a treat for the senses. He’d even gone so far as to investigate a song that one of the baristas- the redhead- had been singing under his breath, discovering a delightful musical of dubious historical accuracy, and much less actual singing than most musicals. Dimly he recalled his coworkers talking about it, but they had not been able to express how … tight, that was the phrase, tight the lyrics were. 

At any rate, it was nice to find a Café he found this pleasing. Most of his social interaction was experienced second hand by being in a public location like the Café, or the busy markets. While he knew it was unreasonable to expect people to be consistent, it sometimes bothered him that they weren’t, and thus there were no real patterns that he could learn to make social interaction easier. Each new relationship was a guessing game full of pitfalls. He’d tried approaching it like minesweeper, since the metaphor fit, and unsurprisingly mathematical formulas were not particularly helpful in forming relationships. So- second hand socialization. Similar to just staying quiet and listening to his coworkers, but in an unobtrusive way that didn’t get him labeled as a ‘creepy eavesdropping gossip’ which was ridiculous, since he would have to repeat the rumors to be a gossip, he was fairly sure. More of those secret jumps of logic that confused him so much. Why couldn’t people be  _ consistent _ ? Why was that such a hard concept? Was there a pattern and he was just missing it? Logan observed people over the edge of his computer screen and the rim of his travel mug and wondered. He caught the edges of passionate conversations and playful banter. It sounded… fun. Even when he didn’t get the jokes, the sound of laughter was nice. Still, he was better off just listening. 

The less said about his attempts to date, the better. Second dates only occured if he indulged in more making out than conversation on the first, and while that was undeniably an endorphin rush, it wasn’t comfortable in the stilted remnants of his feelings. And those second dates he got were generally a haphazard push towards fornication. Which wasn't  _ bad _ , persay but it did lack the personal connection that Logan craved. It was good, however, and kept any danger of touch starvation at bay. Which also helped prevent ridiculous crushes on anyone who showed him more than cursory kindness. A librarian. A trainer at his gym. A coworker who was just _ like that _ . Embarrassingly, a clerk at the game store he purchased supplies at. It wasn't as if he was actually an emotionless robot like his last roommate had said once. He just didn’t express it well. It was just as well he'd been transferred. Getting into a relationship with Teagan had been a mistake. He had been a wonderful roommate, and as far as Logan could tell, a fantastic teacher, but the adorable blond had too much of a mischievous streak. Logan was fairly sure that his standards were too high for an actual relationship. They had managed to end on good terms, but other than forwarding a few pieces of mail, they hadn't had any contact since. Despite the fact the lack of contact went both ways, Logan was a little hurt. They had been roommates for three years and ‘friends with benefits’ (the benifits being occasional but very satisfying cotius) for half of that. Perhaps their parting had not been as amiable as he’d thought? Logan would have to re-examine their last interactions. How frustrating. However, that was not something that could do anything about, so he would put that off to a later date. 

Instead he let his mind drift to the Café, and it’s warm, calm environment, and the attractive regular baristas. He’d initially thought they weren’t too much younger than himself, but the darker skinned one, who used more ridiculous slang, had recently dyed his hair a brilliant bubblegum pink, which Logan could only hope he would over dye it before it faded to the point the color would resemble nothing so much as a cotton candy stuck to his scalp. The sides were already starting to show his natural dark color. The action had made Logan lower his estimation of his age by several years, and by extension the other barista, who appeared about the same age. He didn’t think they realised how much time he spent observing the people who came in and out of the Café- which was good since he’d put effort into learning how to observe without being noticed. Surely, if he observed enough, the patterns would become more obvious. He needed to understand. His mother had always taught him not to try and speak or debate on any subject he didn’t understand. So in the meantime he continued his observations. 

Tonight for instance, he was observing his co-workers who had talked him into going out with them. Lyra- the real instigator, a lesbian with a wicked sense of humor and a fondness for Logan’s flat-edged jokes for some reason- had confiscated Logan’s tie, promising to give it back on Monday, rolled his sleeves up to the elbow and let his hair down from it's normal tail. She then proclaimed them as the duo most likely to ‘steal your date of any gender’ and dragged him to a bar. Bars were not his favorite location, let alone bars with karaoke. But at least she wasn’t making him participate in  _ that _ . He could sit there with his drink and watch people go past in various states of inebriation and desperation. When the karaoke ended at eleven, Logan was more than willing to call it a night, but one of their other coworkers knew another bar with longer 'embarrassment hours’ not far away and led them down the street in a tipsy caravan. As they walked, Logan’s attention was drawn to the window of a shop, which displayed used books and small antiques of various types, under the shop name of ‘The Dusty Shelf’. Noticing it was still open, the standard listed hours as ‘12-12 except when we aren’t’, he waved Lyra on, as if he would join them later; which they both knew he wouldn’t. Laughing she waved goodbye, taking his tie out of her pocket and putting it on herself. He frowned at her, but then the corner of his mouth turned up. It was kind of funny. 

Sliding into the shop with the faint chime of a bell Logan was overcome with the smell of paper, ink and spiced tea. It was pleasant; especially compared with most rummage shops. Ironically, it didn’t smell of dust at all. No one greeted him, but the lights were on and the door was unlocked, so Logan decided to make the most of his time. The shelves were less than ideally organized, knick knacks and chotches holding up books- mostly hard cover but occasional paperbacks. 

After a bit he realised they were related, the books that were shelved next to antiques sharing a theme. Whoever owned this shop had an organized but unusual mind. He turned a corner passing a large box of old Archie Digests (a dollar apiece) and down another row of bookshelves. 

A shelf entirely of porcelain women in ridiculous skirts. 

Mixed editions of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare filling another shelf. 

Stacks of scripts, some with doodles on the covers, some without on the shelf below that

Slick paper of torn dust covers, fabric bindings, leather bindings. 

Tea cups in mismatched and matched saucers, a stack of canvases leaning against a wall.

Still no smell but ink, paper and spiced tea. 

Having looped through the entire shop- which was deep in the way that only consignment shops and used book stores were- Logan came up against a counter where a gangly, pale, dark haired man leaned on his elbow, reading something. Behind him, a curtain was pulled back showing a staircase that led upwards. 

Beside the counter, there was a shelf with a sign that was painted cheerfully saying ‘foxed, worn and disreputable, but not unloved’ and that shelf was haphazardly stuffed with books, mostly hardcovers, that were in fact in terrible condition, but still readable. An excellent place to get samples to practice repairs and rebinding on. He looked through them, picking out a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories that someone had torn both covers off and scribbled ‘NOT LIKE THE SHOW’ on the flypage of, a delightful anthology of Shakespere’s sonnets that was making a desperate bid to escape from it’s cover, but didn’t seem to be missing any pages, the paper thick and pleasant to his fingertips and a vintage copy of a Conan novel with a missing title page that he thought binding dramatically would be fun. 

Noting it was almost midnight, Logan turned to leave when he spotted a moldy green cover with faded gold embossing. The overall shape suggested a journal, but it definitely was a book. The title on the spine said something he couldn’t make out, ‘The’ and ‘of’ were the only really legible words. He worked it out from the bottom of the pile. It would have been thick for a journal, he realised tucking his other choices under his arm as he got it loose. The spine was worn as if it had been violently miss-used, held open, and possibly even bent backwards. The leather was water spotted, and thin at the edges- most unusually, and continuing the overall feel of a journal rather than a novel- thin strips of the same leather protruded from the book’s back cover and one from the front, turning into braided cords that wrapped around it securing the book shut. Probably for the best, given the way the spine shifted. The ties kept the covers from moving too much, and were in a tangled, messy knot. Logan blinked and turned the book gently, noticing a discoloration on the edge of the pages. It looked as if- ah! This book appeared to have a fore-edge painting! That definitely was interesting! He resisted the temptation to manipulate the already mangled spine to try to get a better look at it. A fore-edge painting would disallow the common re-binding technique of cutting the edge, making it a challenge. Logan could feel a small smile creeping onto his face. Rebinding this book, trying to keep the original feel and the fore-edge painting- he could see that some of the pages had taken water damage as well- oh that would be a delightful challenge. Not to mention the mystery of the book as well. Was it a mystery? Had someone created this book specifically to mess with someone else? Was it an original manuscript that had been hand penned and abused? He would have to thank Lyra for dragging him out this evening, because if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t have found The Dusty Shelf, and thus, wouldn’t have found this book. 

If this had been a fantasy novel, the clerk would have noticed something odd about the book, or not recognised it, perhaps even tried not to sell it. The old cash register would have made strange noises, and they wouldn’t take cards. Logan would never find the shop again. As it happened, the clerk lazily finished off their mug of tea, pulled out a laminated sheet and scanned a code, then produced a tablet to ring the purchase up, sticking the books in a recycled paper bag with twine handles and a card. He sheepishly explained that the hours just meant it opened late and stayed open late, because both he and his partner suffered from insomnia, and felt it was better to open the shop and pretend to be doing something than to stay laying in bed staring at the ceiling. Logan had never suffered from chronic insomnia, but sympathized nonetheless. The lanky man did lock the door behind him, however, clearly deciding to give sleep a shot, the lights flicking off, and leaving Logan with only the street lamps. Pulling out his phone, he strolled down to the corner and called an Uber. He’d had more than enough adventure for a Friday night. 

It was probably not normal friend behavior to watch your friend get mildly beaten with sticks. Even if it was a consensual beating with sticks. Even if he frankly was doing a pretty good job of beating the other guy with his stick. Just two manly men, hitting each other with sticks. Though Virgil supposed it made about as much sense as any other sport. 

Virgil leaned back as Roman’s opponent took a knee, and the fight resumed. Roman was very good at this fake blood sport- though he objected to Virgil calling it that. Virgil had watched him doing it enough to know that when faced with a pole weapon, Roman went down cheap. Spears, halberds, it didn’t matter. Snaked right past his shield and sword and got a killing blow. It was bad enough Roman had even stopped protesting when Virgil razzed him about it. Fortunately- for Roman at least, those mostly came out in battles, where the field was full, not tourneys. Virgil had to admit though, there was something about it. Sometimes, when the fighters were moving quickly, and there was nothing but the movement and clang of the armor, he could forget it was just sticks and padding. He tried not to get into it though since the last time he had, Roman had noticed his attention and fucking blew him a kiss when he won the bout. It was a good thing neither of them were, because there was nothing hetrosexual about that. The inadvertent blush and subsequent teasing that had lasted the rest of the event hadn’t been enough to make Virgil stop watching Roman fight though. So he guessed it kind of was like a sport. Of course just listening to Roman talk about it had taught him more about the ridiculous bruise fest than four years of gym had ever taught him about basketball. 

Finishing the bout, Roman came over and collapsed on the grass next to Virgil, pulling off his helmet and gauntlets. His hair was sticking to his face with sweat. 

“You winning, sport?” Virgil teased, knocking his friend on the forehead with a bottle of gatorade. “Gonna get crowned the queen of love and beauty, or whatever?” 

Roman flipped him off before taking a few gulps. 

“Okay, first off, not that kind of tourney, this is just an oxhide round robin, second off, in that kind of tourney, I’d get to choose who that was, so that’d be you right now, so jot that down, asshole.”

“Oh my. My heart can hardly take the tenderness.” Virgil flipped out a fan and fanned himself sarcastically, fluttering his eyelashes. Roman made a face. 

“Tenderness is for times I’m not sweating this much.” 

“That explains  _ so  _ much about your dating history.” Virgil teased, and Roman turned if anything redder. 

“Oh fuck you.”

“You’re such a romantic.” 

Roman flopped back onto his back in the grass and Virgil gently used the fan on him until Roman’s face was a more normal color. 

“How are you doing? I know you’re getting exposed to your nemesis, the sun.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got a tree and everything. You’re the one in the full sun.” he gestured back at the list, where two fighters he didn’t give a shit about were going at it. From the sounds of other people’s cheers it was going well. While the field was lined with trees, the list itself was in full sun at the moment. 

“I also notice that even though you beaned me with a bottle, Fall out Bard,  _ you’re _ drinking out of a goblet.”

“I’m a classy guy like that.” Virgil grinned. “Now hurry up and lose so I can go hang with the musicians without feeling bad for abandoning you. They’ve got a hurdy gurdy in the hall and I want to see if I can play it.” 

“Just for that I’m winning to spite you.” Roman said, downing the rest of the bottle and sitting back up. 

“Going to win, huh?” 

“Shut up and hand me the bruise cream.”

“Uh, no. You don’t get the bruise cream until you wash a bit more.” Virgil grinned at Roman in the mirror, holding his doublet and shirt hostage. 

“This is a public restroom.”

“Get scrubbing. I’m not sitting next to you, let alone driving home with you until you stink less.”

“ _ You _ stink.” grumbled Roman, wetting his washcloth, and wincing as he wiped down a bruise where a particularly strong hit had crashed across his shoulder. Virgil had a point, but honestly, he would have much rather just put on some more perfume and tiger balm and gone to flirt with the exactly zero eligible young bachelors at the event. 

“No u.” Virgil smirked. 

“I thought you were going to abandon me.” 

“Yeah, but then you were pathetic.” Virgil looked thoughtful. “Oh wait, that’s why we’re friends.” 

“Bold words from someone I can crack like a lightstick.” Roman mumbled into his washcloth. Roman jumped when he felt a hand on his back.

“Seriously though, you know I wouldn’t be standing here wearing a dress if I weren’t your friend, right?”

“It’s a tunic, and you look fabulous.” He did. His all-black aesthetic was replaced with violet knee length tunic and warm gray hood and pants. Well, both were trimmed in black, but it was kind of a reversal of his normal look, and there were only the faintest traces of his normal eyeshadow. Roman thought it would look weird if Virgil dressed like that all the time, but it was a fun change up. Of course, Roman had made them for him, with the express intention that it would be something Virgil would be willing to wear. 

“Tunic dress.” he said dismissively. 

“You’re not even wearing hose.”

“ _ You _ don’t even wear hose.” 

Roman shrugged, that was true. He let Virgil rub the bruise cream onto his back where he couldn’t reach and put himself back together. Technically with the doublet he should be wearing hose and a codpiece, but it was distracting. He was working up to it. He did it sometimes. Gold and white brocade was flashy enough. Excuses aside, it did feel better to have given himself a sponge bath instead of just putting his nice garb on after sweating like a steer all afternoon. Fixing his hair in the mirror, he turned and smiled at Virgil. 

“Do you ever get sick of being right?”

“No, never. Probably because I’m only right in comparison to how wrong you are all the time.” 

“I certainly was wrong about you.” Roman bowed theatrically and captured Virgil’s hand, kissing the knuckles. “Well my Vigilant Violet Vanguard, shall we get to the more fun part of the day?” 

“Oh like you weren’t having fun with your stick-jock stuff.” Roman jerked out of the way as Virgil almost grabbed his nose. 

“But now I get to actually hang out with you. I know you were pining for my company.” 

“Nah, you’re the sappy one.”

“Ooh good one. You know, if puns were humor instead of a cry for help.” 

“That wasn’t a pun…” Virgil let himself get drawn out into the main hall. 

It was nearly midnight when they made it back to their apartment. The feast had been good, and Virgil had gotten roped into playing for the dancing. Roman of course, had volunteered to help clean up the hall, and then they had an hour’s drive back.

“I’m just saying,” Roman laughed as he waited for Virgil to unlock the door. “You were geeking out about the hurdy gurdy, you’re learning the terminology, you don’t have to pretend that you don’t like coming with me to save your reputation.” 

“Yeah, well, guess who’s coming to a concert with me next month, and who is going to dress how I tell him? Hint: it’s a himbo.” 

“A himbo who gets to go to one of the most hyped concerts this year for the small price of glaring at people who try to come up behind you while wearing a halloween costume?” Roman retorted. “ _ Torture.  _ Seriously though you should take Andy instead…” he trailed off because Andy was curled in a ball on the couch, in the dark. Which wouldn’t have been unusual, except his phone was on the coffee table in front of him, and he was staring into nothing, instead of into the internet. 

“How’d the date go?” Asked Virgil carefully, not turning on the living room light, but scooting in to sit next to his brother. 

“The date went fine.” Andy mumbled, hitching his hoodie closer around himself, and not looking up. 

“So what didn’t?” Roman settled down on the other side. 

“Netflix and chill.” 

“On our COUCH, Andy?” 

“Don’t worry. Turns out I don’t have any chill.” He curled up if anything tighter, face pressed to his knees. “It’s stupid.”

“No never!” Roman protested, putting an arm around the smaller boy. “It upset you, which means it’s important.” 

Andy relaxed a miniscule amount at the gentle contact then tensed up again. Virgil nudged him, leaning next to his brother but not pushing contact like Roman was. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

Andy groaned into his knees. 

“I just… it was nice, I liked hanging around with him. I liked kissing him. Kissing was great, and I thought that I wanted to… you know, do more. It sounds so good in theory.” 

Roman started to say something and Virgil pinched his hand to shut him up, letting Andy keep going. “And it was kind of nice but then I kind of just… realised I didn’t really want to do more. I mean, I could have kept kissing, but... It wasn’t bad, I should’ve just kept going.”

“So do I have to slay a former associate of yours?” Roman asked, jerking his hand out of Virgil’s range, before cuddling Andy again, stroking his loose hair. “Did he stop?”

“Yeah, no it’s fine. He stopped. Wasn’t happy about it, but he stopped.” Andy uncurled a little. “Don’t try and kill my ex.” he didn’t sound sure, but he said it.

“Ex?” Virgil prodded. 

“Wasn’t… the first time I’ve kind of panicked and bailed after reaching heavy petting. I guess he was sick of it. Fuck I’ve messed up. I’ve been thinking about it, and I really messed up, Virge. It’s not that big a deal. It isn’t.” He stared at his phone where it sat on the table, but he didn’t move, he just trembled. “I should apologise…” 

“Ease up, Andy.” Virgil took his brother’s hand and rubbed slow circles on the back, as he leaned in. When Virgil’s anxiety got the best of him, he didn’t want to be touched, but Andy was different. Andy had always been a little more tactile, and he needed grounding, or he’d try to ground himself, and he’d hurt himself doing that before. Roman snuggled closer on the other side, smooshing Andy between them. He shuddered a little but relaxed. 

“You absolutely should not.” Roman countered. “So what if you don’t want to have sex with this guy? It’s not the end of the world.”

“It wasn’t just him.” Andy sighed. “Every single relationship I’ve been in has ended like this.” 

“ _ All _ of them?” squeaked Roman. 

“No offense to your taste, Andy, but that’s a lot of jerks.” Virgil snorted. Andy squeezed his hand pointedly. 

“What if I’m asexual?” Andy asked miserably, turning so his face was pressed against Roman’s chest. “I… I don’t want to be alone.”

“Okay, that does  _ not  _ follow.” Roman protested. “Even if it does narrow your dating pool, you don’t need to have sex.”

Andy made a vague noise of disagreement. 

“Not to hear the guys I date tell it.” 

“Date less assholes.” Virgil countered. “What was this guy's name again? I know a guy with a big stick.” Roman snorted quietly. 

“Don’t beat up my ex either.” but this time, Andy sounded more amused, if still muffled by squishing his face into Roman. 

“Just a little?” Roman offered. “Knee caps intact, just some bruising?” 

“I make no promises.” Virgil said darkly. “Just lists.” 

It was pure hell for Roman to pull himself out of bed the next morning to make his shift for the after church crowd. Though that rush wasn’t much compared to the families that inundated casual dining spots, or anything like the rushes on the weekdays, Coffee And Tea Café was a popular spot for just casual meetings. And apparently, after church dates, which Roman had never realised were a thing until working the Sunday shift. Go to church, listen to sermons, walk with one's sweetheart, get a coffee and pastry and chastely return them to their homes. It was actually really cute and romantic. 

Which was yet another reason it was hell. 

He hadn’t gotten enough sleep because he’d stayed up late talking Andy down from panicking about his sexuality and his dating history. He was the manager on shift, so he had to open (for ten, but  _ still _ ). He was sore from bruises on his knees, back and ribs.  _ And  _ he had to watch cute couples. It was like being trapped in a fifties malt shop this morning. Life was nothing but misery. Andy might be having a crisis, but he’d at least had a boyfriend until last night. Roman could barely picture his last boyfriend. Just a few vague memories of a very ugly tunic.  _ He  _ was not asexual in the least, but he really did understand Andy. He didn’t want to be alone. Roman let his head fall dramatically to the counter.

“What’s up, sport?” A warm hand landed on his shoulder- sadly, right on the biggest, darkest bruise. Roman yelped, and jerked up right. Mr Foster stared at him, blinking, having pulled back a little bit. He looked a bit like he’d been to church himself, the collar of a button down peeking out of his oversized sweater, both rolled up to the elbows, his hair loose instead of pulled back. He smiled uncertainly. 

“Just uh… hit a sore spot.” reaching back Roman rubbed at it, wincing. 

“Oh, played a little hard yesterday?” his boss nodded. “Did you have a good time at least?” producing a hair tie from his slacks, he gathered his silvery hair up, pulling it away from his face. Most days he was there for opening till lunch then often showed up again for close, but on Sundays, he left fresh baked goods in the kitchen, and didn’t show up until noon. 

“Yeah.” Roman nodded. Mr Foster smiled kindly, and laid a much more gentle pat on the spot Roman had been rubbing, letting it rest there. Roman choked back a relieved moan as the warmth of the other man’s hand soothed the sore spot. “I swear, Mr. Foster, if you could bottle that you would make your fortune easily! You have magic hands.” 

Mr Foster laughed and wiggled a finger at Roman. 

“Ssh. You’re going to blow my cover.” He winked. Roman laughed, and, feeling better turned to the next customer, and got to tap his favorite sign, which was bold, bright and right on the register “HI! We’re not Starbucks! It’s up the street on the left! We’ll still make you coffee though! But use your words! <3” It had been there for the entire time Roman worked at The Coffee and Tea Café, and he never got tired of it. Small businesses were the best. His Boss was the best. His friends were the best too. For having such a small scale, his life was pretty darn good.

Lyra had not returned his tie. She gave him a different tie, and looked artfully confused when he called her on it. While it was in the same color pallete, it didn’t look anything like the tie she had taken. 

“Besides which, Lyra,” Logan said calmly. “I know a Ravenclaw tie when I see one.” 

“Of course you would.”

“I should, I own two.” 

She stared at him for a moment and his bland expression, then burst out laughing. 

“Okay, confession time, I kinda… don’t know where your tie is.”

“How could you lose track of a tie, which the last time I saw it, you were wearing?”

“Do you really want to know?” 

“I would not have asked if I didn’t.”

She pulled a face.

“Logan, buddy, that is not true.” 

He exhaled slowly and rolled his eyes. “I assume you’re going to inundate me with excessive information now?” 

“Just a little oversharing, but yeah.” She rubbed her nose. “So at the second bar, I kind of… made friends with a lovely lady. And went home with her. And your tie, which I am sorry about, was kind of used to tie me to the headboard-”

“That sounds like very poorly negotiated kink exploration.” 

“Oh come on, a little bondage is barely kinky-”

“It is and I am concerned that you don’t think so-” 

“And so I never got it back the thing is; because I was really distracted when I was leaving the next morning, and I couldn’t read her number because she’d given it to me before we left the bar, and it got a little smeared. “

Logan cleaned his glasses rather than respond. 

“If I find her again, I can try to get it back, and rest assured I will be looking, I mean for mostly unrelated reasons, but…”

“Thank you very much for your honesty, and this new tie. I didn’t have this particular one.” 

Lyra grinned, looking a bit relieved if he was reading her expression properly. While his first instinct was to get to his cubicle, he thought he might attempt further conversation. He did have a few moments. 

“Did you think I would be upset?” 

“Sometimes I’m not sure.” she admitted. “You can be hard to read. Funny, but hard to read.”

“... you think I’m funny?” Logan was genuinely unsure what to do with that information. 

“Yeah. I mean, you’re serious, but that’s part of what makes your humor so good when you do it. You’re not always trying to goof. Like some people.” They shared a look.

“Yes, some of our coworkers are a trial.” 

“Some of our coworkers should be on trial.”

“Well you are not wrong.” Logan thought of some rather reprehensible behavior that had been displayed at the holiday office party. 

“And you see, that’s why I like you.” She reached out then thought better of it, so rather than patting his shoulder, she shot him finger guns and they went about their day. 

Friday night and Logan was very happy to see his apartment. He’d stayed late because the last call he had taken was incredibly inane and yet impossible to beg off. An hour after he was supposed to have left, he finally located their problem by talking them through screen sharing. They had somehow had updates installing in the wrong folder. Once he could see it, the problem took less than a half an hour for him to fix, though it would take longer for their computer to be usable, as it had to reinstall updates. He recommended them leaving it on after restarting, and had to forcibly loosen his jaw after they informed him they never shut it down anyway unless forced. 

Since he had been planning on going grocery shopping after work- and was now too late to do so; He’d picked up takeout and was contemplating ordering this week’s groceries online and breaking into the limited selection of wines he kept on hand. A glass and a half in, he finished his food, rinsed the takeaway container, and refilled his glass, letting his head fall back against the kitchen cabinet with a gentle thunk. Theatrics over with, he straightened up, intent on going to bed, and perhaps reading. His eyes caught however on the worktable he did his book restoration on. The small pile of books waiting to be started on had fallen over somehow. Possibly because he had carelessly stacked them on top of that unusual book with the tied closures. Settling down in his chair, he re-stacked them properly by size and likelihood to slip, fingers moving over the leather of the unusual bind before setting it down by itself and looking at the tangled knot the ties were in. Perhaps he’d take a few minutes on that puzzling knot instead of heading straight to bed. Several minutes later, his fingers itched towards a blade. Most knots were in variations of slip or square when tied, even when tied lazily, but there didn’t seem to be any pattern to this knot, not even any of the decorative knots that he’d learned as a child. Still, he was no Alexander, and there was no need to rush things. As he thought that, he located one end of the cords. Pleased, Logan continued teasing at the knot until two more had been located. Three out of four found, he couldn’t resist the urge to persist, and by the time he’d finished his glass, he’d located the last one. With all ends located, the knot fell open in an almost ridiculously easy fashion, the ties laid out on the surface in smooth lengths that didn’t appear to be long enough to create the tangled mass they’d started as. That was a fairly normal illusion however, and Logan smiled to himself, satisfied. Carefully picking the volume up, he turned it gently in his hands and fanned the edges. When it revealed a fore edge painting, he was pleased at being correct, though he was somewhat disappointed in that it appeared to be a map of some sort. He couldn’t recognize the country, it being stylized and old fashioned, and a plotted line went from one point to another. If it was a novel of some sort, perhaps this was just an eccentric version of the maps that often appeared. Laying the book down again with care for it’s weak feeling spine, Logan carefully opened it, looking for a publication date or imprint. Not finding one, he turned to the first page finding it was printed in a clear and not too archaic type. Tempted by the written word, he read the first sentences, which were begun with a fanciful decorative letter. 

“He looked up,” Logan read, “as if his attention had been drawn by a sudden draft. Had it been opened? How?” A strong gust of air hit his face and he jerked back, as light sprang nonsensically from the book that lay open on the table in front of him. Before he could react more than that, it drew him in and Logan was lost to the sensation of falling. 

In an empty room, the pages ruffled in a fan, and the book shut again, though the ties that had previously held it closed were now nowhere to be seen.


	2. .Book Two.

Logan opened his eyes, and his legs collapsed beneath him, no longer supported by a chair. He landed hard, rocking back on his elbows on what felt like a stone floor. The back of his head collided with a wooden door, which swung open slightly. The room appeared to be made of stone, with a battered wooden doorway he was now sprawled in. There was limited wooden furniture at the edges. Golden light came through a window to his left, half blocked out by a figure. 

“Janus?” a man’s voice, hopeful and slightly nasally. The figure loomed closer. “Not even close, damn it. Who are you?” 

“Who am  _ I _ , who are  _ you _ ?” Logan demanded. 

“Yes those are both good questions.” he was backlit, and it was hard to make out details, but even the dim light illuminated flyaway curls of auburn hair. 

“Well here is another one; where am I? What happened?” 

The stranger clapped his hands together. 

“You opened a tangle-trap, new friend. So now you’re stuck with me.” he offered a hand and after staring at it for a moment, Logan accepted it, letting himself get pulled to his feet. He dusted himself off, and found himself being inspected, though he still couldn’t make out features of the other man. “Definitely worse people to fall in. Nice. I mean, not for you, but…. Do you hear birds?” He turned away and shoved the door open. “HOLY FUCK BIRDS! YOU ACTUALLY BROKE IT! YESSSS!” 

“Come back you haven’t explained anything-'' Logan protested, following him down the hallway. The hallway was faced in stucco, with light coming in from windows near the ceiling and bouncing off the off white walls. Starting to feel as though he was trapped in a nonsensical dream, he followed the other man down the hall, tile floor cold through his socks. Dust motes danced in the light swirling in his passage, and more light streamed in as another door banged open at the end of the hall, opening to an enclosed courtyard. The buildings have a vaguely medditeranian feel, tile roofs and stuccoed walls. Beyond the walls, treetops bounced in a breeze, and fluffy white clouds moved in dizzyingly blue sky. A flight of small black birds turned and wheeled. Now in daylight, he could see the other man was dressed in archaic garments, what had appeared to be black in the dimness of the house was dark green, a fitted jacket, nipped in at the waist and then flaring out, and tight trousers that appeared to be made of leather tucked into tall boots not unlike riding boots. He threw his arms wide and crowed at the sky. 

“The clouds! The birds! The trees! They’re moving! They live! This is wonderful!” Finally he turned to face Logan. “Now all we need to do is find our way through the story and we are outta this outhouse!” 

“Roman?” Logan asked, suddenly confused. What was the barista from the Café doing here- especially with a terrible mustache? 

Oh. It was a dream. 

Somehow he had fallen asleep, and fallen out of his chair without awakening, and this was a dream his subconscious had come up with. Other people would show up soon. His ex roommate, his parents perhaps. That one teacher who was incapable of grading fairly or admitting a mistake that he still hadn’t forgiven. 

“Roman?” The other man asked. “You- you know my brother? Did he send you?” Suddenly he was much closer, and Logan realised what was off, unlike the smiling green eyes that he’d gotten used to, this man’s eyes were red- dark at the edges but striking a startling crimson towards the pupil. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t spot the faint edge that would indicate colored contacts. They were the same height, Logan realised, not leaning out of the sudden invasion of his personal space, instead focusing on those wild red eyes, the red-brown tint of the wisps of hair that fell into his face, the tawny-brown of his skin, the tiny hairs at the edge of his chin and escaping his mustache. A hand came up to pat his cheek and now Logan reacted, stepping backwards, towards the door they’d both come out of. He pinched himself and frowned when that did nothing but raise a faint welt. Logan looked back up to see the man who wasn’t Roman looking him over.

“You aren’t from Sanders, are you?” he asked. 

“This is a dream. I do not have to talk to you.” he pinched himself again, trying his earlobe this time. 

Rolling his eyes and sticking his tongue out, the auburn haired man made a burbling noise of disgust. 

“Shit, don’t stay in denial too long, this’ll get boring real quick. I’m Remus.” he jerked a thumb at his chest, where his jacket gapped to reveal a black shirt with delicate ruffles at the collar, and what appeared to be blackwork embroidery in places. Remus scratched the back of his neck. “I guess I’m still the Duke of Sanders, until I get informed otherwise, or they kill me, and I’m not dead yet. Just trapped.” he waited a few seconds. “Any time you wanna jump in and tell me who you are, tall, dark and handsome, that’s great. I could just call you ‘the man of my dreams’ but that’s a mouthful.” He chuckled, and somehow it sounded like an insinuation. “You look like more than a mouthful, though.” 

“Are you….  _ hitting  _ on me?” Logan demanded, boggled. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Well whose fault is that? The guy who introduced himself, or the asshole who thinks this is a dream?” reaching out he grabbed Logan’s hand. Logan could feel calluses, and surprisingly well tended nails scraping lightly over his skin as Remus adjusted his grip. He raised it to his mouth like he was going to kiss it, but instead licked a broad swathe across the knuckles. Logan yanked his hand back with a screech.

“Well I know  _ I’m  _ not asleep now, how you doing?” he wiggled a finger in his ear, cleaning it out. Logan scrubbed the back of his hand against the seam of his jeans.

“My name is Logan Lehrer.” 

Remus’ face split in a grin.

“Was that so hard?” he demanded. “So you aren’t from Sanders.” 

“I don’t know where that is.” automatically, Logan’s hand went to his pocket, producing his phone. It had no service. 

“That means you’re from the other side.” Remus looked excited. “And you broke the Tangle-trap open.” 

“I don’t know what that is.” 

“It’s a magical trap.” his fingers cupped into claws, he gestured grabbing, interlacing the digits. “Catches you in something and holds you. Sometimes it’s a single day, sometimes it’s a story. You can’t get out without triggering the right response.” he gestured around the courtyard. “Since I got here, nothing moved but me. The wind didn’t blow, the dust didn’t really settle, no birds flew, nothing. I have no idea how long I was here. Did you know you can get bored of masturbating? I did not anticipate that, but here we are. But now the world is moving, which means I- and you- can get out.” 

“I untied a knot holding a book shut.” Logan offered. 

“A book! Yes, that’s definitely a narrative-style trap.” he looked Logan up and down, he smirked a little but then focused on his feet. “You know what; you’re going to need shoes before we go, c’mon.” 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Yeah you are.” Displaying surprising strength for his lanky body, Remus dragged Logan back into the house, which looked something like a sprawling villa from the outside. “I mean for one thing, you probably don’t want to walk around barefoot, great way to slice your feet open and get gangrene, for another, if you don’t come with me, we probably won’t get out the other side, and we’ll both be stuck. I do  _ not  _ want to find out that fucking gets boring, so better to bust out of here instead busting a nut.” He moved down the hallway knocking doors open as he passed. Despite the sound of birds and wind outside, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the house. No matter how he strained, Logan couldn’t hear another human being that might possibly rescue him from this madman. “So how do you know Roman?” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Roman. My brother, my twin, my other half, how do you know him? You fucking?” Remus made a triumphant noise, and dragged him into a room with a large canopy bed. Logan was very concerned until he was towed over to a wardrobe instead of towards the bed. It was a very odd feeling to be so much at the mercy of another man, and as he was released, Logan pulled back and rubbed his wrist. 

“What?! Of course not! I don’t… I don’t even really know him. He makes coffee at the café I go to every day. I only know his name because he wears a name tag. We’ve…. never really spoken.” 

Remus had opened the wardrobe doors, momentarily obscuring himself, and shut it, just a bit, to stare at Logan with those wild red eyes. 

“My brother. The Prince of Sanders. Makes your coffee?” 

“I don’t believe he’s the prince of anything.” 

“Yeeaaah debatable. Politics, blah blah blah.” Remus twisted his hand in the air and made a flicking gesture. “He hasn’t abdicated, still the prince. But in the service industry? Ro?” He blinked a few times. “I mean, I know it’s been years since I saw him, but I did  _ not _ see that coming.“ Remus started tossing garments, much the same style as what he was wearing out of the wardrobe. “I think you’d look good in black. I mean, white’d make your skin pop, and a nice indigo might be good, but you can’t go wrong with black.” Popping back out of the wardrobe, he caught Logan’s eyes again. “But he’s okay? Right number of fingers, toes and eyes? Getting laid on the regular? Eating?” 

“I presume he’s fine. He looks to be in good health, like I said, I haven’t really spoken to him.” 

“No accounting for taste, I guess.” He held up a shirt against Logan’s chest. It was silvery grey with more blackwork embroidery. 

“I really don’t think you’ve explained anything yet, and I’d like a little explanation if you don’t mind.” Logan shoved the shirt away. “I was in my apartment, and I opened a book and now I’m where precisely? Am I in your ‘Sanders’?” 

“Uh no. You’re in the book. The tangle-trap, remember?” Remus said simply. “I was trying to leave Sanders and get to… uh... uh…” he snapped his fingers a few times, trying to remember. “Ewessaye. Cuba? Florin? Florida! That’s it, Florida. That’s the last place I saw my brother.” 

“I live in Florida. Where is Sanders, precisely? On the globe, I mean? Is it in South America? Mexico? Is it an island?” 

“We’ve got some islands, but we’re kind of on a land dick? Isthmus? Peninsula!” He leaned against the wardrobe, and crossed his arms. “Is this conversation going to take long? I really want to get out of here.” 

“This is madness, this isn’t possible.” Logan ran his hands through his braids. “I cannot be a book. That simply isn’t possible.”

“You said that twice.” a pair of low boots thumped to the ground near Logan’s feet. “Try those on.” 

“You can’t put people in books. Not without severely damaging them at least.” 

“You’d be surprised what people put in books. Turn around and let me look at that fine asset you’ve got going on.”

“Certainly not!”

Remus stepped away and they danced about as Logan attempted to keep him from looking at his ass. Logan ended up backed up against the foot of the bed, with Remus’s arms on either side of him. 

“Not that this isn’t a wonderful position- for me, at least.” Remus purred playfully. “But I get the impression we aren’t really communicating here.” Despite his flirtatious tone, his arms were trembling just barely noticeably where they brushed against Logan’s. Their faces were very close, and Remus inhaled deeply, eyes half closing for a moment. “So!” he pushed away, rubbing his hands together. “I’m guessing they use even less magic in Florida than I remember.” 

“Magic isn’t real.” Logan said, but it was weak.

“I think the ship’s sailed on that one, handsome. Time to get with the sodomy.” 

“Magic isn’t real.” Logan repeated, a little hysterically. “It makes no logical sense! I-” he collapsed onto the bed, sinking into the featherbed, and slid his hands up under his glasses. “I am too fatigued for this. Can you be exhausted in dreams?” 

“Oh yeah. Usually indicates a feeling of monotony.” 

Logan felt garments hit the bed beside him. 

“There we go, those should fit you.” Remus picked up one of Logan's legs and pressed the boot to the bottom of his stockinged foot. “Eh, not these. Am I gonna have to dress you?” 

“I do not wish to go anywhere. Least of all with you. I have no idea what is going on, I am exhausted, and I wish to return home.” 

“Do I hear that.” Remus mumbled, almost too quietly for Logan to hear. “So. You’re from Florida. You don’t know anything about magic, you’ve never heard of the Kingdom of Sanders, your name is Logan Lehrer, and you untied a knot around a book. I’m guessing you did that at home, near the end of your day.” The bed creaked and Logan bounced slightly as Remus flung himself down next to him. “You know a guy who looks enough like me that you mistook me for him, but only because he makes you coffee. I got that all right? ” 

Logan turned towards him and slowly slid one hand from his eyes. 

“You were listening?”

“Yeah.” he shrugged. “Now me.” he pointed at Logan. 

“I…” Logan blinked a few times. “You said that your name is Remus. That you were the Duke of a Kingdom named Sanders? You insinuated that this house was some sort of magical trap inside a book, that you were caught in when you tried to go from your kingdom to Florida in search of your brother. You seem to think that if you- we- go somewhere we will travel out of the book that you think we’re in.” 

“Bitchin’ we are speaking the same language, I was worried there.” Remus propped his head on one hand, laying on his side beside Logan. “You know, you could be a trap.” he said

“What?”

“A trap, to try and trick me into stopping trying to get out of the tangle-trap. Start the narrative, make me content to stay in. I don’t t _ hink _ so. It would be weird that you’d show up now, unless I dunno, I was close to breaking out. But you could be. So how's about you trust me on the existence of magic, and I trust you that you don’t know dick about it.”

“I don’t think that’s equivalent.” 

“Do you want to learn something?” he asked. It was dimmer in the room, and his pupils were large, the red dimmed to the darkest shade, like wine or garnets. 

“I suppose but-” 

“Shhh.” Remus pressed the pad of his finger to Logan’s lips, and hummed gently. “Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Sanders, the Queen gave birth to twin sons, Roman and Remus. Now Sanders was a fuckin’ awesome kingdom, with great fields of bounty, fair cities full of commerce, and ports full of trade. There was even general peace between the humans and the not humans for the most part, the merfolk, the beast hearted and the fae. So it was great sadness that the King of Sanders died not long after his sons were born, and the council thought it would be appropriate for the Queen to remarry.”

“Was there a particular reason she couldn’t rule herself?”

“I like the way you think, but yeah, she was Marked- fine for a consort, but human kingdoms have a kind of _thing_ where they don’t like it if magic users are on the _actual_ throne. And the council would not give this up, pushing their candidate- a distant cousin of the dead king, who had been raised in a foreign court.”

“Oh yes, that’s not suspicious at all.” Logan snorted, turning on his side and tucking his arm under his head, drawn into Remus’s storytelling in spite of himself. 

“Oh yeah, shady as FUCK, and well spotted, because it turned out he was a Dragon! Dragons are kind of selfish assholes, and big magic users, but not in the same way humans are. They channel it directly through themselves, a bit like witches, more like fae. This Dragon had wormed his way into the council’s heart; having been accepted as a member of the court since before the twins had been born. Despite her disinterest in remarrying, and the rightful line of inheritance totally falling on her children, the council was very close to being persuaded into putting this Dragon on the throne. And then one day, the queen left, taking her children and going to the summer home that had been hers before she became queen. And once she was there, she fell off the map almost entirely. Almost entirely, because a school of bad-ass marked mages were on her side. She disappeared by taking her sons and moving from the Kingdom of Sanders to an adjacent place where only humans lived. They were safe there, though they traveled back and forth to fulfill obligations in Sanders. In time, she remarried on her own, a man from the adjacent place. He liked having sons, he liked having a wife, but he  _ didn’t _ like that it was only half the time.” Remus paused, rubbing a hand over his face, smoothing down his mustache. 

“The classic narrative would suggest that he took a forbidden action, and lost them.” Logan suggested, face resting on his arm. He was just so tired. It was all so much. The madman with the nasally voice was an excellent storyteller, as well. Remus laughed, and Logan jumped a bit, but then settled back down. 

“Nicely spotted, s-pecs.” He reached out and patted Logan’s chest. Logan just looked at him blankly, not reacting and that made Remus grin. “But you’re only half right. One twin was left behind. The eldest twin and heir to the throne. With the heir missing the kingdom was thrown into disarray- mostly by the council freaking out, and the queen accused of murdering her own son. Stupid, right? The younger one was RIGHT THERE. Why only kill one son if you’re going to commit late-term infanticide?” He flipped his hand about at the wrist inscribing small circles in the air. “They tried to imprison her and her other son and when that didn’t work, the council claimed they’d banished her, and the king’s ‘cousin’ was put on the throne.” 

“Ah, I smell rebellion.” Logan’s eyes were closed, but his voice was fairly clear. 

“Aren’t you a clever one? It started out small, because it wasn’t as if the Dragon was being a bad king- a little different, but not bad. Then things started to shift. Again, not all the way to bad, just making the kingdom different and people do not always like change. Then- the queen really did disappear, leaving her other son behind. And that’s when things went off- small changes to magic regulation went big, marked mages being attacked in the streets, and more importantly, somehow it was okay that the new king used magic. Now no one knew he was a dragon yet- that’s pretty new information, and what sparked the younger twin’s intent to find his brother. Just when he thought that he’d found passage to the adjacent world, he found himself stuck in a magical trap where he stayed in isolation in mid afternoon for…” Remus trailed off, and his eyes shut. “... I wanna say a year? Hard to count when you’re suspended in a moment, even if you can move around it.” 

Logan gave a vague sound of agreement, and Remus realised that he was dozing off.

“You weren’t kidding about being tired, huh?” Gently he reached out and dragged his fingertips over Logan’s face. “Okay. We’ll go when you wake up.” he looked up at the small windows high in the walls and blinked sleepily himself. “There’s actually going to be a night. Nice.” 

When people talked about being awoken by birdsong in stories, it sounded pleasant. The reality was much less so. It was loud, and it was chaotic, screeches and twitters and back and forth between both birds of the same kind and others. Logan turned burying his face in an unexpectedly soft pillow. In fact… everything was soft. He wasn’t in his own bed, or any bed he recognised. He was engulfed in a feather bed of folk-song proportions that smelled faintly of lavender. Curtains of what appeared to be velvet half enclosed the bed. Reluctantly, he sat up, rubbing his face where his glasses had pressed into it, and processed this new information. 

Given all the details, tactile, olfactory, auditory, and visual, he was still in the same place. That meant, however improbable, it had not been a dream. He had been dragged into a fantasy world. The next thought that came into his head was the irritable realization that that probably meant no coffee. The door got kicked open and Logan jumped. 

“GOOD MORNING!” bellowed Remus cheerfully. He had a jug in one hand and a mug in the other. “Aw, you were already awake.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you lack social graces?”

“Everyone!” Remus confirmed, setting the steaming jug down on the sideboard, where a large bowl waited “I got you hot water, because people like to wash in the morning, and some coffee.” 

Logan blinked, staring at the mug. There was coffee. He supposed it made sense. Remus hadn’t voiced any confusion about coffee, only that Roman had been making it. It smelled… good. Reaching out, he took the offered drink. 

“Thank you.” he said, staring at the dark substance for a moment, wondering if asking for sweetening would be out of line. Well nothing for it. He sipped it and blinked. It was good- very sweet, with a kick of spice to it, and an odd thickness. 

“You’re a lucky man, getting the most royal of coffees.” Remus winked. “I take tips in the form of kisses and curse breaking.” 

Logan almost spit out his next sip, covering his mouth. The redhead laughed, but pressed the pad of his pointer finger against his lower lip invitingly. 

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that…” Logan said weakly. 

“Eh, it was worth a shot.” He shrugged good naturedly. “I got your clothes set, all clean and nice.” he gestured to a draped pile laid out on something that resembled a ballet bar more than anything else, and a pair of boots waiting beneath it. “Had to find different boots, you’re a big boy.” there was an insufferable quirk of an eyebrow, and he went on. “And I’m even gonna leave you alone to get put together, how’s that for nice? Got a nice satchel so remember to take everything you came in with, okay? Well not hair or spit, I guess. Boy I’d be fucked if I had to do that. I’ll be down the hall, in the study. Room you showed up in. We need to get to the next town if we want to find out what the fuck the story thinks we should be doing. I mean, I’m hoping for a good sweaty romance, but we can’t always get what we want huh?” 

“Will there be people in the town?”

“Should be. Now that things are moving things are getting filled in. There are animals in the stable now. I mean we could wait around until like, servants get filled in here, but I am  _ fucking sick _ of waiting.” He slammed the door behind himself, and Logan couldn’t help but blink at the sudden display of temper. Logan took another gulp of the coffee. 

Unusual, but not bad. 

There had been hard soap beside the basin, something with a vaguely floral, musky scent, that clashed a little with the cedar that emanated from the clothing. Bathing piece by piece with a cloth was nowhere near as refreshing as a shower, but it was better than nothing. The clothing was easy to understand at least, most pieces analogous to normal garments. Logan hesitated over the bleached white undergarments, and in the end, stuck with his own. Hopefully this adventure wouldn’t last too long. Trousers, stockings, a blouse that pulled over the head, and closed with tiny buttons at the collar and cuffs, a jacket in a dark blue similar to the one Remus had been wearing that did close down the front with a row of cloth-covered buttons. There were no pockets, but a thin leather belt that held up a wallet of sorts, and a small knife, more comfortably worn under the edge of the jacket. The boots took a moment of study, as they closed by the looping of a long leather cord over buttons, like adjustable button holes. Logan inspected himself in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door- a thing that appeared to be made of polished metal rather than glass. Certainly if everyone dressed like this, his jeans and polo shirt would have stood out. Wiggling his toes in the unfamiliar leather, Logan folded his clothing neatly and tucked it into a leather satchel that was unremarkable, if well made. He turned his phone off and slid into the wallet. His keys and wallet had been discarded in the entryway of his apartment with his shoes, he realised, and he hoped that wouldn’t cause problems later. 

Suddenly Logan realised that he was stalling, and threw the strap of the satchel onto his shoulder, marching firmly down the hallway. He hated everything about this. But he would not let himself be needlessly avoidant. 

One door stood ajar. Inside Remus was at a standing desk under a window. There was a stack of books next to him, and he was leafing through them, and another mug like the one he’d brought Logan. Logan took another moment to inspect Remus. He looked rumpled, like he hadn’t bothered changing after sleeping in his clothes. However, his hair was combed back and secured with a decorative clasp, and the stray hairs from his face were missing indicating that he’d shaved. There was a smear on the back of his thigh like he‘d wiped something off his hands. Without meaning to, Logan lingered for a moment on the shape of his thighs in the leather pants and the curve of his ass as it disappeared under the edge of his jacket. He shifted putting a book into a pile, and turned back to see Logan.

“Well that’s hot.” he turned around and leaned against the desk, grinning at Logan. Logan shifted a bit, not sure how to react to that. Remus insinuated himself closer, reaching out and tugging the collar of his shirt so it lay better. “There you go. If you’re going to be that fucking sexy, go the full distance.” his hands were still spread out on Logan’s shoulders, thumbs brushing his collar bone. Logan coughed and politely backed up a step. 

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

Remus turned away and gestured at the messy desk. “Well I’ve read all these books before, of course. Dull shit, mostly but it kept me sane-ish, and helps give me an idea of what’s going on. Kind of like a cross between Sanders and Florida, I think. No real non human presence, but magic. Still no fuckin’ clue where the end of the story is.” 

“What were you hoping to find?” 

“Eh.” he made a dismissive noise. “Really, I was just killing time until you got yourself together.” Turning back to the desk, he picked up another book, flipping it open and scanning the pages. Logan took a moment to look around the room. There was a bookshelf with gaps in the volumes, a cabinet with shallow drawers, and on one wall, a mounted map. He walked over to it, and squinted.

“Wait, I’ve seen this.”

“Huh? Is this one of your kingdoms?” Remus asked. “What’d you say, South America? Mexico?” 

“No, that’s not it.” Logan cleaned his glasses and frowned at the map, lifting his fingers to reframe it. “It’s… It’s the map that was on the fore edge painting. That map was in color, and there wasn’t a legend, but the mountains and the rivers are the same.”

“Where was it?” Remus demanded standing just behind him. He gave off heat like a furnace, Logan realised. 

“On the edge of the book.” using his hands as a frame, he slid it up and down the map, marking out the point. 

“What book?” 

“The one with the knot.” 

“Fuck yes.” He put his hands on Logan’s shoulders, leaning closer. “What else?” 

Logan twitched a little as breath brushed his cheek, and tried to concentrate. 

“There was a route traced across it.”

Remus thrust a pencil over his shoulder. Logan stared at it then at the map.

“Show me.”

“Oh the wall?” Logan demanded, taking the pencil. Strangely for the setting it appeared mechanical, a thick lead in a metal housing. 

“Yeah, why not?” Remus rolled his eyes and went to the cabinet, yanking drawers open one after another, flipping through sheets of parchment in it, before yanking one out and sweeping the desk clear, letting the books fall haphazardly to the floor as he spread out a copy of the map.

It was plainly the same map, broad sweeps of forests, mountains and rivers, dots marking towns, thin lines for roads, edged with a coastline on the right, decorated with some sort of cephalopod holding the compass rose. Logan glanced back and forth, verifying, then drew two lines. 

“This is how much of the map was visible.” he said and frowned. “The plotted course started…. Here.” he made a circle. “Near there anyway.” Gently he drew the pencil over the parchment. “It was… along here, over this river, then…” he raised the pencil, and closed his eyes, trying to call to mind the map. It would be foolish to berate himself for not looking more closely. He had no idea it would be important. If it even was important. “Here I think.” another circle, this one out of the shelter of the mountains, near the sea, centered on a dot of a town whose name meant nothing to him.

“All that.” Remus sounded frankly impressed. “And you only had one look at it.”

“I have a fairly good visual memory.” Logan dismissed it, looking at the pencil again. 

“You’re a pretty good visual yourself.” he pressed their shoulders together, easy since they were both standing at the desk, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Logan looked away, not meeting his eyes. Sniggering, Remus rolled the map up and slid it into a tube, tapping it against Logan’s ass. “So… any experience riding?” 

Logan shifted uncomfortably, and stared at the back of Remus’s head. 

“I’m not going to lie,” he said finally. “I assumed you were making an innuendo when you asked about riding.” 

“It was both.” Remus twisted in the saddle turning back to look at Logan. The horse he was riding was unimpressed, and kept following the road. “We can get on the other one later, if you’d like.” 

“Please keep your eyes on the road.” Logan’s eyes glanced over at the edge of the road, which was not quite a cliff but was very steep, and perhaps a yard away. Much to his horror, the redhead kicked free of his stirrups and turned around entirely, leaning forward on the pack on his elbows. The horse Logan was on snorted and shook his head, and his hands tightened on the reins. 

“You really haven’t been around horses. Samson has eyes. He knows where he’s going.” One foot kicked idly, and Samson’s ear flicked back, unimpressed. “And Phillip is just gonna follow him unless he’s given a reason not to. They got brains. You gotta loosen up or you’re going to give him one.” 

“I am absolutely sure that horses are not telepathic, so how could he possibly know where we’re going?” 

“Right now, there’s one path, down.” Remus sat back up, sitting backwards in the saddle. “Look, it’s pretty switchback, so you may want to wave goodbye to the manor.” He pointed behind Logan who did not turn around, keeping himself as smoothly in contact with the horse as he could. Remus didn’t seem to notice, as his head snapped around and he easily switched around to sitting properly in the saddle, rising in the stirrups. “You can see people in the fields! Hot damn! Gonna find an inn! Gonna get a drink!” he sang tunelessly to himself. “Whatever kind of weird ass story we’re in now, there are people~”

The other man continued to talk to himself, and Logan began tuning it out, frankly, since it didn’t seem to make a lot of sense. They were in the mountains- the foothills rather. The manor that they had started from was cradled in a small valley, with terraced fields around it both up and down the mountain side. The path they were on wound its way back and forth through the fields, down to a more hilly section where Logan could see smoke, presumably from villages and if he strained moving dots that were probably people, working in the fields, tending herds of larger dots and moving along ribbons between fields that were roads. It was all very green, and like nothing Logan had ever seen before. The warm wind carried the smell of standing water. That was familiar. He had lived in Florida for a long time. Perhaps that patch was an orchard? Could he make out a building there? He’d taken Remus’s advice to relax and let the horse pick it’s own pace, ambling along behind and to the right of the other horse as they continued the easy ramble down into the lowlands. Ahead of him, Remus sang a song he’d never heard before to a familiar tune he couldn’t place. 

They had been riding for what was probably hours when they hit the lowlands. Logan’s thighs burned. His ass hurt. He hadn’t been in direct sunlight for this long in a long time. In short he was in a foul mood. When they’d passed a pair of people eating their lunch, Remus had stopped and hopped down from the saddle like he hadn’t been in it all morning. He was chattering brightly at the pair, who were apparently farmers, breaking between working in the fields and the orchards, and had plenty of time to chat. Logan had worried, given the overall fantasy feel of the situation that he'd stand out with his darker skin tone, but the farmers were both somewhere between his color and Remus's- and different ones at that. They wore smock like shirts and loose trousers, and while they were barefooted two pairs of heavy boots were waiting nearby, so that was by choice rather than habit. As the conversation wore on, Logan made up his mind to dismount and stretch his legs. He found himself flat on his back on the ground, with all three men and both horses staring at him. 

“Scholar.” Remus said brightly to the farmers, and popped over, unhooking Logan’s foot from where it was caught in a stirrup and getting him to his feet. His legs hurt and he lurched a bit into Remus who patted his back. 

“Why do my legs hurt so much?” Logan demanded, trying to keep his voice down. “I wasn’t using them.”

Remus snorted. Logan made a face at his obvious amusement. 

“I take it I was.”

“Yeah. And in different places than walking too so if you’re used to that-'' his hand groped the back of Logan’s leg, digging into a hot, sore muscle, and the leg jerked, kicking Remus’s who only grinned. “A walker then.” 

“This is the scholar from the estate then?” one of the farmers asked, gesturing up the mountain they’d come from. 

Logan’s eyes flicked over, wanting to push away from Remus’s hold, but not quite sure if his legs would hold him up. Was he supposed to be the owner of that manor then? What did that mean for him, given he knew nothing about what was going on.

“Nah,” Remus said easily. “His heir. Little sheltered.” Marginally better Logan supposed but he still had no idea about this world. What if someone asked him a question? What was he supposed to be a scholar  _ of _ ? “Relax.” Remus purred into his ear, which had rather the opposite effect, but stiffened him enough the other man could let go of him and let him stand. He collected the reins Logan had dropped as Phillip experimentally sidled away. Logan stretched as best he could, but the conversation petered to a stop, and Remus turned back towards him and pointed down the road. He made no move to remount, so they walked down the road, leading the horses now. Once they were out of earshot, Remus told him they should make a town about nightfall. “But I was serious, you gotta relax, specs.” 

“What if I say something wrong?”

“As long as you stay calm, you can’t.” 

“This appears to be a somewhat primitive agricultural society and there are generally any number of taboos I could accidentally commit.” 

“Mnn I guess. Thing is, it’s not all the way real.” He passed Logan one of the sets of reins so he could gesture better. “It’s a tangle-trap, remember? The danger is sinking in, or panicing and making big waves. Make big waves, they’ll jump back on you and things’ll get dangerous. Don’t move, and it’ll suck you in and you’ll just live out your days peacefully. The trap adjusts to who’s in it.”

“So is this like your Sanders?” Logan gestured at the field. 

“Sort of? I’ve been more of an urban animal lately. S’easier to move undetected when not everybody knows everybody.” Remus shrugged. “But I get the impression that it was set to more hold me than anything else. A tangle trap can kill you lots of ways.”

“You say that and I am supposed to relax!” Logan made a throwing gesture. “I am… not suited to adventure. You say the ‘tangle-trap’ adjusts to who’s in it. Wouldn’t that make it more dangerous for me? Clearly it should be for you.”

“Except it just held me.” Remus peered around the horses. “I think you’re missing that. Until yesterday afternoon when you showed up, I had been alone in an endless afternoon. I couldn’t even get the gates of the manor open, and if I tried to climb over, I found myself back in the courtyard. I could do shit, but shit stayed the same.” he scrubbed a hand down his arm, then gestured to the horses. “These boys here weren’t even in the stable. Birds didn’t sing. The wind didn’t blow. Then you showed up and everything started.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “The setting’s mine, I figure, but  _ you’re _ gonna be what’s moving the story. So, pretty boy, what do you like?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What toots your horn? What makes you tick? What is it that you do in your world without magic? What do you spend your time doing?” He smiled again, broad but just a little bit dangerously. “What’s your story?” 

“I don’t have a ‘story’” Logan retorted. “I have a life. I have a job.”

“Everybody has a story.” Remus retorted. “Some are spicy and some are boring as shit, but everybody has a story. Try again.”

“I don’t owe you my life story.” Logan looked at the road ahead of himself. He loathed ‘California scenes’ in books; where people randomly shared their backstories just so they would be known. Just because he happened to be in a story didn’t mean he was going to compromise his principles on that. 

“And now I think you’re hiding something.” Reaching over Remus dug his fingers into Logan’s ribs, which made him jump, but fortunately he wasn’t ticklish. Logan glared at the imposition to his personal space. 

“I’m not hiding anything, there’s simply nothing to say. You wouldn’t know what Information Technology work is if I told you.” 

Remus considered this accusation. 

“If I had to guess, librarys or computers, and since you didn’t say librarian or archivist, computers.”

Logan stopped in the middle of the road and stared.

“You know what a computer is.” disbelief was heavy in his voice. 

“I lived in Florida until I was like… seven or so? Yeah. Thinking boxes for writing and playing games.” Remus kept walking and after a moment, Logan caught up with him. 

“I suppose that’s accurate enough. I stand corrected then, I help other people use computers correctly. That is my job, and what I spend most of my time doing.” 

“Okay… but what do you  _ like  _ to do? I mean I do like fighting, and that is kinda my job-”

“Your job?”

“Being a mad duke doesn’t pay much these days.” Remus sniffed, gesturing dramatically. “Especially if you’re technically exiled, and theoretically imprisoned. But I  _ like  _ stuff like… music. Dancing. Hunting. I like books ‘n all, but I’m pretty sick of ‘em right now. Wanna  _ do _ shit. Gods above, I want to get laid.” he gave a long, drawn out groan, staring at the sky. “I mean, I’m not so desperate as to be an asshole about it; or to like beg for trouble, but I wouldn’t say no if trouble came knocking you know what I mean?”

“I prefer my intimate encounters to be trouble free.” Logan retorted. 

“Ah, a guy for whores, that’s cool.” 

Logan sputtered. “Certainly not!” 

“Oh shit, you got someone waiting? Of course you do, fuck, no wonder you didn’t want to talk.” Remus looked away scratching the side of his face. “Awkward~”

“I do not.” Logan wasn’t sure why he felt the need to be clear on that. “Why do you talk like that?”

“Why do  _ you  _ talk like  _ that _ ?” retorted Remus. “Shit I know what you mean about me. I don’t talk like, fancy and fuck.  _ You  _ sound like a merchant with delusions of gettin’ ennobled.” He took a deep breath, and his spine straightened in a way that made Logan realise he’d been loose and slumped. When he spoke, the faint nasally whine was almost completely gone from his voice. “I could, should I choose to, talk in a manner befitting my rank. However, given my situation that is completely inappropriate.” He caught Logan’s eyes and arched his eyebrows. “I am still going to be a noble, regardless of my actions, and more to my point, my diction, and I can tell that you are already re-evaluating my capabilities and intelligence.” He made a rude noise and slumped back into his relaxed posture. “So fuck that. If people think I’m shit, that’s their problem. It’s fuckin’ class warfare is what it is.” 

“An interesting opinion for a member of a royal family, even in exile.”

“Yeah, well I hang with all kinds of subversives.” a fond smile danced across his face, then he just stared into the distance, watching the flight of birds. 

“Who’s Janus?” Logan asked. Remus blinked and looked at him. 

“Now who’s being nosy?” 

“That’s fair, I suppose.” 

Remus ducked under Samson’s neck and bumped against Logan. 

“I don’t mind, but hey, tit for tat, right? I’ve told you plenty about me, and you won’t even share your hobbies.” He pouted. “I don’t even know which way you swing.”

“If I said I was hetrosexual would you cease your teasing?”

“Eh, eventually.” Remus shrugged. “Of course I wouldn’t  _ believe  _ you, either.” He rolled his eyes, and caught and held Logan’s gaze for a long moment. His eyelashes were really quite impressively dark, compared to the auburn of his hair, though the mustache and his eyebrows were darker as well. For all their impossible color, the eyes themselves were beautiful. It was impressive that he could maintain eye contact that intense while walking. Stumbling, Logan looked away. 

“Well, in this case you would be correct.” he admitted. “I am a homosexual homoromantic cis man. And I am not in a relationship.” 

“Homo-lone, I see.” 

Ignoring the jab, Logan continued the conversation.

“What about you? Do you have someone waiting for you back in Sanders?”

“Fuck I hope so.” Remus muttered with feeling under his breath. “Nah, not like  _ that _ . I play it fast and loose and upfront, so long term things aren’t a thing. Well sometimes I play it slow and hot and tight, depends on where the night takes us. So look what we got in common!” 

Logan waved him away, trying not to blush. 

For the rest of the afternoon, Remus teased information out of Logan, occasionally trading a bit back or answering questions. He didn’t have any allergies. He was a good swimmer, but only underwater. He’d puked the first time he’d gone hunting and had to dress out game, and felt he still hadn’t lived it down. In return, Logan had shared the story of how he’d broken his leg- someone had stepped on it in gym class; how he’d figured out he liked boys better when a girl had asked him to a dance, and tried to stick her tongue down his throat, pressing his hand to her chest- he’d expected Remus to laugh, especially when he admitted that what he’d been thinking about was the way the short hairs tapered off at the back of the boy who sat in front of him in math’s head, but he had just shook his head as if he understood. That had been his first series of kisses, though Logan tended not to count it. He’d also shared his favorite genres of stories, and had rattled on about a Victorian-set forensic mystery he’d read the month before that had really been engaging. 

It was nice. 

Just talking with someone about likes and dislikes. The air smelled fresh, like growing things. Logan hadn’t realised that cities had a smell beyond exhaust, but the lack of it in the air made it obvious there was. It was nearly idyllic. As crass as he was, Remus was intelligent, quick witted and apparently well read in his own circle, so he made good company. Logan’s legs weren’t quite up to the task of getting him back into the saddle on his own, Remus gave him a boost, and more advice about riding. 

“Do you think we’ll be doing a lot of it?” Logan asked. 

“What riding?” Remus laughed. “Unless you wanna spend a lot more time in this place than I do, yeah. I mean, fuck, I guess we could get a wagon, but that would be slower, and then we’d have to maintain the wagon, not just the tack.” 

“What you’re saying is this is the most efficient mode of transport available.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Fantastic.” he grumbled, and glared at the back of Philip’s head, who frankly was only a horse and didn’t deserve that. Remus stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged, letting silence wrap around them for the rest of the afternoon- or at least he didn’t try to talk to Logan. He mumbled and sang to himself from time to time, however. He didn’t seem to realise he was doing it.

The sky was coloring, warm tones painting clouds when Remus spotted smoke from the town, though they couldn’t see the town itself as they were still in rolling foothills, some of which held animals and some of which held woodlots. He stood on the saddle without even bothering to get Samson to stop. The horse in turn did nothing but flick a disinterested ear back at his rider. Logan didn’t have much experience, but the horse did seem to be a fairly calm animal. Any resentment that he might have that Remus had chosen to ride him was counteracted by the fact that he had no interest in doing the kind of gymnastics Remus got up to in the saddle. 

“Okay, so-” Remus slid back down into the saddle, then swung a leg around, hooking it over the saddlehorn as though he was riding side saddle so he could face Logan. “We can definitely make it to town, so we won’t have to camp out; but as it gets dark we’re only gonna get slower, and we’re probably gonna have to walk the last mile at least, maybe two.” 

“Why?” 

“Horses have shit nightvision.” Remus explained simply. “I mean, they can be trained to trust their riders and keep going at night but uh,  _ you  _ ain’t trained.” 

Logan grimaced at the grammar, but shrugged. That was true. He had been around horses longer today than perhaps the rest of his life combined, and was frankly relieved that the only time he’d fallen off the horse hadn’t been moving at the time. 

“Will there be a place to stay in town?” he asked instead. 

“Should be. Someone’ll put travelers up if there isn’t a dedicated place.”

“Really? That seems unlikely.”

“You seem to be expecting a lot more hostility than I am. Stop it.”

“What?” 

“Look, the more you expect hostility, the more there’s gonna be, and we’re not armed.”

“I am more concerned now than before. Why would we need to be armed?” 

“In case we get in a fight. Those muscles only for show?”

Logan shifted in place uncomfortably. 

“I… I do like the way they look. Being in good physical health increases my self esteem. And it is nice to get admiration.”

“So you can’t fight?”

“I’ve never really  _ had  _ to, I mean… I suppose I’ve been in scuffles.” he shifted uncomfortably. “Though… not since I left school. School doesn’t count at any rate, that was a long time ago.”

“Why’d people give you a hard time in school?” Remus asked. 

“People don’t appreciate people who put emphasis on intelligence. And I was as they say ‘nerdy’. I finished puberty late. I didn’t get my last growth spurt until the end of highschool so I was very soft looking, and awkward.”

“Aw, were you a tubby little cutie?” 

“I don’t think anyone ever used those words. ‘Fat faggot’ were shall we say more common.”

“I bet you were cute. All fluffy hair and glasses.” 

“I wore my hair clipped.” Logan retorted. “And again, not cute.” 

“I can’t picture that.” There was a long pause. “Faggot means gay, right?”

“Is that not a word in your world?” Logan asked in disbelief

“Well it means a bundle of wood, but I’m guessing it means something else to you.”

“It’s a rather hostile pejoritve. What kind of slurs do people use against homosexuals in your world?” 

“Invert. Pervert sometimes, but that might just be what they call me.” he flipped a hand around. “Takken. Manure man- that’s guy only. Girls get a cute one: ‘honeylove’. Laughy- that’s a take off from gay. Queer, but some people like that, like honeylove so eh.”

“Well that’s certainly creative. Though Queer is the same. What's the etymology of ‘takken’?” 

Remus wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. 

“I think it’s on the idea that you can get like, converted into it? Like a changeling. So it’s like ‘taken’. Course, some people think it started from just making fun of guys who like to receive. You know, taking it-”

“I get the idea, thank you.” The conversation paused for a long moment, and Logan finally asked. “Is it… not considered wrong?”

“Depends. Some gods are dead set against it. Some cultures just don’t talk about it. If you are, don’t be loud about it. But those are usually pretty repressed anyway. In Sanders, on a kingdom level, it was just kinda like being left handed.” 

“Mostly accepted but the world is set up for the people who aren’t?” Logan asked. 

Remus nodded. “But hey, people don’t ask too many questions, and some other cultures only think it’s weird if you only like one. Sanders leans that way.”

After a long pause, Logan spoke again.

“That sounds nice. While things are getting better it is still less than ideal to be an openly homosexual individual.” 

“Well that sucks. And not in a fun way.” 

“It has, as I said, improved considerably. Between that and my ethnic background, I suppose I am used to expecting violence.” 

“Holy shit, you sure you want to go back? That’s a joke.” 

“It's not as if I have employable skills in a less technology rich environment. Though I can restore and bind books, I suppose.” 

“Ooh, all that  _ and  _ you’re good with your hands. What a catch.” at the theatrical fluttering of lashes, Logan simply rolled his eyes and resumed watching the road ahead of them. Giving a small noise of disappointment, Remus let it go. “I can teach you how to throw a punch or something.” he offered. “I mean, I can’t teach you a weapon until we get our hands on them, but…”

“That’s fine. I’d rather not engage in physical altercations.” 

“A lover not a fighter, huh?”

“If those are the choices. I don’t want to appear to be a thug.” he thought about the offer however. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that, however. It’s becoming painfully obvious that I will be stuck here for longer than I want, so it's better to be prepared.” Logan heaved a sigh, and adjusted his glasses. “I just hope I get home before I lose my apartment.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll go gentle for your first time.” 

Logan already regretted his decision. 

The road was heading down again, the town apparently in a valley, the road steeper than the one off the mountain because it wasn’t so switchback, instead cutting a slight curve through a larger woodlot, that crowded both sides of the road. The road itself was defined by a sort of dip and the gathering of larger stones on the sides, informal boundaries. The trees had the unfortunate effect of making it feel as though the dusk was more like full night. However, less than a half hour before a stray gust of wind had brought the scent of cooked food and people to them, so they were clearly on the right road to get to town. There was enough light that the road was obvious at least, though they were leading the horses now. In the woodlot itself however, almost no light was seen filtering through the trees at all. Logan was sure that he saw things moving in it. He tried to tell himself it was woodland creatures, such as deer, but did deer move like that? He didn’t really have enough information about wild animals to say either way. Remus was singing to himself again, something with a droning repetitive tune and a seemingly inexhaustible set of verses, each one followed by a repeat of the chorus. Logan tuned him out. 

A flash of light under the darkness of the trees caught his attention, so he looked harder, perhaps it was a firefly? He’d always been fond of those as a child, and they were much less common these days and the places he frequented. There was another flash of light, brighter, and dancing, joined by another. In spite of himself, Logan smiled, watching the dancing lights as they wove in and out of the branches, singly and in pairs. There were so many.

Remus didn’t notice that Logan wasn’t walking beside him until he heard the crunch of a branch, and turned to see his new companion disappearing into the woods, haloed by flickering, dancing lights. As he stopped singing, he heard faint dancing music in the distance. 

“Shit!” dropping the reins, he vaulted into the woods himself. 

Logan was very surprised when he followed the fireflies into what appeared to be a lit room, full of people laughing and dancing. Had he inadvertently crashed a party? Logically, he should back away before anyone noticed him, but he found part of him didn’t want to. He wanted to watch these beautiful people dance. They were graceful and light on their feet and seemed to almost glow from within. Still, while their beauty was undeniable, the other word he would use for them was… sharp. Their fingers were long, their limbs slender, their faces beautifully tapered, ears swooping to leaf like points, and their eyes narrow and bright. Even the glimmering fall of hair and garments- more fantastical than even what Remus was wearing- was too sharp, too clear, like they were hyper focused. Like those first few minutes after his prescription was updated. Like one of those incredibly high resolution TVs. He turned his head following a strand of dancers, and found himself looking at one of the beautiful dancers, who stood beside him suddenly. Logan had to tip his head up to look at their face. Even their collarbone was beautiful, and looked like it could cut through ice. Their face- it was like nothing he could put into words. Like sunlight through crystal, like a dancing chemical flame- in spite of himself he gaped. 

“What a handsome little darkling.” Their voice sounded like they looked, impossibly. Long digits stroked over Logan’s face, like a caress of silk. “Welcome. Now how did you find your way here?”

“I … was watching fireflies.” he managed.

“Oh, how fortunate for us to have attracted such a prize. And where were you going?”

“I was…” where had he been going? “Home. I was going home.” He wanted to be home. He wanted his bed, his books, the next episode of Doctor Who. 

“Were you now? Is anyone waiting for you there?” Their hands were cupping his face, a finger twisting around a single braid. 

“No.” Why was it he wanted to be home again?

“If you stay here with us, you shall want for nothing for all your days.” the idea of it twined around him like an overly affectionate cat. “It will be full of delight and all you will desire. Would you like that?”

That did sound nice, like the touch on his face, compared to the ache in his muscles, the scratch of unfamiliar fabric on his skin, the nagging feeling of exhaustion and hunger. 

“Yes.” 

The smile was sharp too, full of brilliant white teeth. Logan blinked, feeling kind of dazed.

“And would you give me your name?” what a small thing to ask. And it was so rude of him not to have done so already.

“My name is-”

“Scuse me” Something looped around his neck, hauling him away from the beautiful creature who wanted to give him everything. Logan flailed for a moment, as a hand that was so rough and calloused in comparison grabbed his face, and lips pressed to his. They were soft, but in a real way, and tasted faintly of licorice. Logan shook his head away from it, blinking in confusion.

“There you are.” Remus said, his arm still looped around his neck. 

In between one blink and the next, the room turned into a clearing in the woods, lit by a central bonfire that danced with color. Most terrifyingly the figures that danced around a central fire were  _ still _ impossibly beautiful but now in a way that was more eldritch than enchanting. The one whose hand was still extended towards him was frowning now. Remus’s hand slipped up and covered his mouth before he could say anything. 

“We’ll just be on our way.” he rumbled politely, so solid and earthy next to these creatures. 

“But I want him.” pouted the creature. “Surely he would rather stay with me?” 

Logan had wanted to, and part of him still did, but now he couldn’t imagine why. The beauty was unearthly and terrifying. What would they possibly want with him? With Remus’s hand blocking his mouth, he couldn't answer, but he shook his head. 

“Better a man than a lapdog.” Remus stepped backwards, and took Logan with him. 

“Fine then.” 

Remus was pulling him away but not fast enough, and the creature ducked down, kissing his forehead. The touch was oddly cold, compared to Remus’s hand. A shiver wracked Logan’s body.

“But oh shall he dream of what he might have had.” 

“Eh, life’s a bitch!” Remus said cheerfully, and sped up. He switched his hold on Logan to a death grip on his hand. “Don’t say a fucking word. Not yet!” he ordered. The branches around them seemed to reach out and pull at their clothes and hair, but Remus didn’t slow down until they stumbled out onto the road. He looked both ways and pushed Logan down the road. “This way.” 

“What are you-” Logan collided with a large warm body, and Samson turned to look at him with a curious flick of his ears. 

“Get on the horse.” Remus ordered, and for the first time Logan believed that he was a Duke. That was the voice of someone who was used to a certain level of authority. 

“But you said-” he started, lifting his foot to the stirrup. 

“Butt  _ nothing _ !” his hands cupped Logan’s ass and shoved, launching him up far enough for him to get his leg over the saddle. Logan turned and saw the woods were still full of those captivating fireflies, and they were… starting to move in a less organic pattern. Remus launched himself into the saddle behind Logan, pressing them tightly together as he reached forward and grabbed the reins, kicking Logan’s feet out of the stirrups to replace them with his own, and nudging Samson forward so he could gather Phillip’s reins as well. He clicked his tongue at both of the horses, and they started to move. Logan clutched awkwardly at the saddle, terrified of falling off in the dark, even as he was crammed tightly against the other man, who wrapped his arm around him, chin tucked over his shoulder. Logan glanced back again, suddenly realising that while the woods were full of the blinking lights, none of them danced over the road. The horses’ hooves made a dull sound against the dirt road, and one of them would occasionally voice a grunt or whinny of complaint. 

“How’d it go...” mumbled Remus and he muttered something Logan didn’t catch. Suddenly a curl of vivid green flame appeared out of nowhere, floating above Samson’s head and illuminating the road brightly enough to cast shadows. Remus grunted slightly as Logan tensed up. 

“Is that?” they hadn’t followed them onto the road but-

“Relax, four eyes. That’s me.” he didn’t elaborate further. 

Logan felt like he’d escaped something somehow, and licked his lips, tasting the faint remnant of licorice again. Looking up he saw through the gaps in the trees that the sky was fully dark now, and dotted with unfamiliar stars. He kept looking, trying to find something in the sky he recognised when they broke out of the woodlot. In the distance, below them, he could see the shapes of windows illuminated. The town. 

“What was that?”

“That was a fairy hill.” Remus’s voice was too loud too close to his ear. “And you just about handed your balls and everything attached over giftwrapped.”

“And the kiss?”

“Hey, fastest way to break a hostile enchantment is a kiss from a prince.” Remus laughed as he swung down out of the saddle. “Free of charge, just for you, no strings attached.” He blew at the floating flame and it extinguished. The moon and stars gave plenty of light now they were free of the tree’s shadows. Remus rubbed his eyes, and started walking towards town, the reins of both horses in hand.

“Hold on-” Logan protested. “Give me time to dismount.”

“Nah, you’re good. You’re probably gonna be dizzy for a while. I got this.” he rubbed at his temple with the base of his palm. Logan settled more firmly into the saddle and shivered a bit. He was dizzy, cold, and confused. And he hated it. While he doubted he could clear up his confusion about the fairy hill, there was something he could ask questions about. 

“I was under the impression that in your world one needed a marking of some sort to do magic?” 

Remus gave a bark of laughter.

“Yeah.”

“Then what was that?”

“Magic.”

“So you have a mark?”

“No. Remember? Royalty’s banned if they’re in line for the throne.”

“You do know that messing with me serves no purpose at this point.” 

Remus laughed. 

“You don’t want me explaining it. I’ve been around it most of my life, but I haven’t, you know, studied, so I don’t have the technicalities. Most people can do a little magic, even without getting themselves Marked, but Marking makes it easier.”

“So the Marking is a conduit then, like a wand?”

“Sure.” Remus shrugged. After a few more minutes, they began passing scattered houses with large gardens behind drystone walls. 

“I am feeling increasingly awkward, if you could just let me get down, I’d appreciate it.” 

“Fine, but if you fall over I’m just throwing you over the saddle and you can arrive ass up.” Remus stopped, and Logan shakily dismounted, straightening his clothes and going to clean his glasses before he realised he had nothing to clean them on. Having gotten on his feet, his legs were much more wobbily than he’d thought they’d be. He shifted so that he could hold onto Phillip’s saddle but still stand and walk. Remus snorted in amusement but didn’t say anything, which Logan appreciated. They resumed their walk into town. Some houses were dark, and many buildings Logan suspected were workshops, judging from the things stacked outside. It wasn’t a big town, but it was certainly a town, not a village. The mainstreet was straight enough, and led to a large central square, which was lit with lamps, surprisingly enough. In that lamp light there were chairs and tables outside one of the largest houses in town, two stories arranged in a horseshoe shape with one side being a stable. There were people- some dressed like the farmers they’d spoken with earlier, and others somewhere between that and their own appearance, which seemed more fancy in comparison. It didn’t seem to bear comment however, beyond their arrival. They were a mixed bag in gender, their skin colors leaning more towards shades of brown, and most of those who were lounging outside were smoking pipes. 

Remus led them into the courtyard, and a young woman wearing a knee length split skirt and smock came out of the stable. 

“Travelers, eh? What road you come in from?” she asked, smiling pleasantly. 

“The western one.” Remus offered and her eyebrows raised. 

“You came through the fae lot after dark?” She seemed impressed. “Lucky then.”

“Yeah. Lucky.” Remus glanced over at Logan who just looked at him with a blank flat look, the one he used to great effect at work to indicate that yes, he’d gotten the joke, and no he didn’t think it was particularly funny, thank you. 

“Anyway, Masters, there’s still dinner on at the tavern, and I can take care of your geldings for you.” 

“Why thank you.” Remus loosed the saddle bags from Samson, and slung them over his shoulder, before doing the same to Phillip. He offered the bag to Logan. Since Logan knew the satchel with his belongings were in them, he took the bags, and stiffened his knees. The effort was almost wasted as Remus gave his ass a friendly pat. “See I told you there’d be an inn.”

“I choose to reserve judgement.” Logan said stiffly. 

“A hard man to please, huh? Well a hard man may please you then.” The smirk and lift of the eyebrows said more than the recursive sentence, and Logan chose to head in the open door of the inn. 

The lamps inside the building were different from the ones that lit the square, with visible reservoirs of oil. Most people who were finishing meals or drinking glanced up as the pair entered, but didn’t give much more of a cursory look. In fact, Logan gave the patrons more attention than they gave him. Stairs curled along one wall, and the other held a large fireplace with a much smaller fire. Beside it was an old man whose eyes were shut as he plucked out a pleasant tune on a vaguely guitar shaped instrument. Whatever the lamps burned it smelled faintly of herbs- lavender maybe? It was surprisingly peaceful, though the level of murmur was somewhere between diner and bar. A whiff of something savory cut through the mix of smells, leather, lavender, flame, the musky smell of humans who were clean but not freshly washed. Remus nudged him free of his observations handing him a large earthenware mug, full of something. 

“C’mon. Let’s grab a seat.” 

Clutching the mug, he followed along, mimicking his companion's action of laying the saddle bag over the trestle bench and sitting on the strap. It wasn’t perhaps comfortable, but it seemed like a practical precaution, like keeping your wallet in an inside pocket. They were sitting at the end of the table nearest to the fireplace; apparently only desired by older people at the moment. Remus drank from his own mug, before setting it down, and running a hand back over his hair. The action caught Logan’s attention, and he frowned. 

“Have you always had grey there?” He pointed. Remus undid his work, dragging the loose hairs back down into his face, and staring at the offending strands before shoving them back. 

“Sometimes.” he answered cagily, as a young man who resembled the girl who’d taken their horses came up with a tray. He set down food between them, and Logan winced as the loaf of bread was put directly onto the table. Yes, the table looked clean, but who was to say if it actually was? While there were two dishes of what looked like some kind of stewed meat, the other dishes- baked root vegetables, fresh fruit and nuts, and what was probably either butter or soft cheese appeared to be communal. Logan wondered if it would be impolite to ask where he could wash his hands; and the youth had gone on his way before he realised that no eating utensils had been provided. It was just as well, he would have had trouble trusting them. He was rubbing at his hands nervously, when he noticed that Remus had produced a napkin and spoon from somewhere. As he reached for the bread, Logan cleared his throat. 

“Not to uh- complain, but I know  _ my  _ hands smell like horse, so if we’re to share that, I think I’d appreciate it if some sanitary measures were taken. I also seem to lack utensils.”

For a moment, Remus froze in place, then pulled his hand back, laughing. 

“Check your pouch.” 

“My what?” 

Remus unfastened the front of his outer garment- it had been battling all day to stay closed, so the surrender was frankly expected and rose enough to display the same kind of wallet on his belt that Logan had put on that morning. He then finished rising and fished another napkin out of his bag. “Be right back, fancy pants.”

He mussed Logan’s hair as he passed towards the fireplace. Logan did put his hand on the pouch, but turned to watch Remus as he casually dipped his napkin into a steaming cauldron there, and came back, offering the now hot, wet cloth to Logan. 

“You first then.” 

Treating it like a hot towel, Logan carefully wiped his hands down. It wasn’t the same but he suspected that this was as good as he was getting, and he would have to make some sacrifices on this excursion. He was also sure that other people would call it an adventure, but Logan wasn’t particularly interested in adventure. Frankly, the brush with the otherworldly creatures made him nervous enough. 

He passed the still hot cloth over to Remus who’d resumed his seat, and then dug in his pouch, feeling his phone, and also a folded piece of cloth, wrapped around something. Taking it out, he found a napkin almost identical to the one Remus had, wrapped around a spoon. 

“You don’t need to worry about fancy manners with me-” Remus offered, cutting a hunk of bread from the small loaf and passing it over. “And I did wipe my hands before picking it up, no worries.” Logan accepted it a little warily, setting it on the edge of his dish of stew. 

“I doubt my manners are suited to the setting; I suppose I’ll have to follow your example.” 

Remus almost choked on his drink, setting it down and coughing into his hand. Logan winced, and investigated his own mug. It contained a mild-tasting ale of some sort. It was actually quite pleasant. He drank faster than he’d intended, using it, perhaps unwisely to quench his thirst. Somehow the flavor made him feel more comfortable- or it could have been the alcohol, and he used the spoon to try the stewed meat. Much like the ale, it reminded his body that it was empty, and soon his dish was empty enough to be wiped with the bread to gather the last of the gravy. Remus wasn’t the only person who he saw doing that, so it was probably unremarkable. 

Manners seemed to consist of not being overly messy, food consumed with either the spoon, or fingers, or in the case of hot items like the baked roots, speared on the end of one’s knife, which did explain the small knife’s presence in his kit, since it was certainly not a weapon. Fingers were wiped between placing food in one’s mouth and returning to the communal bowls, and the spoon or knife would likewise be wiped on the napkin. He accepted another slice of bread and spread it with what proved to be soft cheese. It was good, but unfamiliar. But then everything had been over the last day. 

“Is this what’s to be expected?” Logan asked. “I mean for traveling?” 

Remus waved down the youth who’d brought their food, and their mugs were refilled. 

“This place is nice.” Remus said seriously. “But if you mean the food, yeah.” 

“I feel fortunate I don’t have any major food allergies.” he examined a nut from the dish. It was definitely a nut, but he wouldn’t have been confident naming it exactly. “You know, ‘sometimes’ is not a very good answer about a physical trait. I am fairly sure you didn’t have that gray patch this morning.” 

“Well usually I pluck them when they show up.” Remus’s eyes flicked up as if he could see the group of paler hairs in his auburn hair. 

“Does premature greyness run in your family, then?” 

“Nah, s’just me. Say, do you really mutilate babies' genitals in your world?”

“Ah, I suspect you’re trying to change the subject.” Logan rested his face on a hand. 

“Yeah, but do they?”

“With alarming frequency; generally under the guise of religion or misguided medical advice.” He took another drink. “What would have happened if you hadn’t stopped me from speaking earlier?” 

“Oh there are  _ way  _ better ways to get fucked over.” Remus chuckled, draining his mug. He contemplated the bottom of it for a moment, but didn’t call for another refill. “Don’t talk about that here. We’ll talk about it later.” 

Logan finished his drink as well, the alcohol dulling the ache in his legs slightly, but no worse than a couple of beers or a few glasses of wine would have. 

“Will we?” 

“Sure.” 

“I was merely going to ask how old you were?”

“Got a thing for older men?” 

“I doubt very much you’re older than I am.” 

“Can’t be sure until we share with the class.” His smile was very broad. 

“I turned twenty nine this year.”

“Pretty sure I’m twenty seven.  _ Might  _ be twenty eight. So I guess you aren’t daddy material.” 

“How can you not be sure?” Logan demanded, ignoring the comment. 

“You’re really not getting the whole ‘trapped in time’ thing, huh?” Remus contemplated his empty mug again. “I was twenty six when I went in.” he pulled an unshelled nut from the dish and cracked it between his teeth before extracting the meat and eating it. Logan winced, and Remus did it again, spitting out shell shards. 

“There’s… a great deal I’m not going to understand, Remus, and that means I’m going to ask questions. And I think you may be the only one I can trust to answer them.” They locked eyes for a long moment, and Remus turned away, raising his hand 

“One more round over here, Thanks!” he rubbed his temple, just below where the grey hairs had appeared. 

“Are you in pain?” Logan asked. 

“Wha? Pft. No.” the wince didn’t make the statement particularly compelling. “Tired tho. Ah nice.” he nodded to the boy refilling his mug. Logan thanked him as well and considered the mug, before starting to drink. 

“That’s understandable. I presume you procured a room at the same time you ordered the meal.” He watched Remus down the ale, and after a moment’s thought passed the remainder of his mug over. Mimicking what Remus had done, he took the napkin and dipped it cautiously in the pot of hot water, returning to clean his hands, and the knife and spoon before returning them, and after a moment’s thought, the dry napkin he’d found there, to the pouch on his belt. Remus grinned at him, as if he’d done a clever trick, before he cleaned his own utensils and wiped his hands, folding the dirty damp napkin up. 

“You keep putting my questions off.” Logan said, not sitting again. The bench had been hard, after the long hours in the saddle. “I’m starting to wonder if you ever intend to answer them.”

“You have a shit ton of questions.” Challenged Remus. “And what if I don’t have the answer? I don’t want to sound stupid.” 

“Too late.” Logan said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. The jab only made the other man laugh. 

“We can talk a little in the room, if that’s what makes you horny.” Remus hauled himself upright. 

“Perhaps in the morning?” Logan asked. “When you’re less drunk.” 

Laughing out loud, Remus tossed the saddlebag back over his shoulder. 

“Drunk? On a few pints of table ale? Not even close.” He arched an eyebrow and offered Logan his arm. “Why, are you? That’d change the thrust of the rest of the evening.” 

Logan didn’t dignify that with a response, and just waited. Taking that as the answer it was, Remus led him away to the stairs against the back wall. At the top, Logan glanced back at the room. Realising that every bit of the room was evenly lit, albet with the level of a relaxed pub, leaving no dark corners for mysterious strangers to linger in, he snorted in amusement. Perhaps when he got home, he’d write down his experience and become a novelist. Though perhaps in his version, he’d write in separate beds.

The worst part was he wasn’t even surprised by the slightly smaller than full bed that took up the majority of the room. Tossing the bag he carried over the footboard, Remus locked the door behind them, went over and examined the shutters, peering out of the window before half shutting them and locking them in place in a position that would make it very hard for anyone to climb through, and then, returning to the door, jammed a thin piece of wood between the door and the frame just above the lock. 

He did this all before Logan had settled the saddle bag he carried over the footboard beside the other one. 

“You look very practiced in doing that sort of thing.” 

The redhead gave a dismissive flick of his hand. 

“I travel a lot. Gotta be careful.” 

“And here all I worry about in my world is bedbugs.” Having said that, Logan’s eyes widened slightly and flicked towards the bed. 

“Can’t you smell the cedar? We’re good.” Remus yawned and stretched, reaching up almost to the ceiling, jacket gapping. He shrugged it off and tossed it onto the combination bureau desk that was the other major piece of furniture in the room, then started pulling off his shirt. Logan looked away awkwardly. 

“So what did you want answers about first?” The bed creaked as he sat on it, and Logan, still resolutely looking at the shuttered window, heard the sound of a boot hitting the ground.

“I suppose we could start with what you expect this trip will be like; how long it will take, if there’s anything I should be prepared for.”

“Huh. Well. I wouldn’t’ve expected the fairies, so I dunno if my expectations are gonna be any good.” He grunted and the other boot hit the ground. “Ugh. I didn’t deterioate, but I still feel like I’ve been idle, this fuckin’ sucks.” There was a rustling sound and Logan glanced over to see him digging in the saddlebags and pulling out the map. He was shirtless, and Logan had a moment of gay stupidity, eyes raking over his torso- leanly muscled and mostly hairless- except for a trail that led right down to the lacings that held his pants shut. Logan pulled his inadvertently appreciative gaze away. “Right, so- Fire Mountain Lodge; that’s where we started this morning. Since this place is called Hollow Inn; I’m guessing we’re in Bull’s Hollow. Which is this far on this wonderfully useful scaleless map-”

Logan snorted, but kept his eyes on the window. 

“So given the terrain, we traveled like… fifteen miles tops. So if the scale is accurate to itself…” The map crinkled. “... you won’t like the answer!” 

“What!?” Logan demanded turning and looking at Remus who was rolling the map back up. 

“What are you looking at over there, anyway?”

“I’m not looking at anything!” His eyes flicked over Remus’ undress, and he tugged his own jacket more closely shut. 

“Uh huh.” he scratched the back of his neck, untying his hair. “You planning on sleeping like that?”

“I don’t have any nightclothes.” 

Remus barely stifled his laughter. 

“Oh boy. Oh boy.” he smoothed his mustache a little bit. “Why Mr. Lehrer, are you worried about propriety? Because I’ll compromise on underwear, but I ain’t sleeping in my pants.” 

Logan hoped very much that his coloration would hide his flush, but somehow, he doubted it. 

“Very well, I suppose. So I take it we have a good distance to travel?” 

“Oh yeah, this isn’t a weekend jaunt, that’s for damn sure.” Remus agreed, returning to the bed and shimmying out of his pants and socks tossing them on his pile of clothes. “Want me to hide under the covers until you’re undressed?” he teased. “Douse the lamp to save your modesty?” 

“Just continue, please.” Logan turned his back on the bed, and unfastened his jacket, folding it neatly. “Are we likely to encounter more fairies?”

“That I can’t say.” Remus admitted. “So don’t go following fireflies into the woods again.”

“I assure you I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t have to dance all night or lose a few years in a fairy hill to do it. You could get yourself killed like that, even here.” 

“Killed?”

“Yeah! You get stuck with fairies too long and time moves on without you- sometimes when they let you go or you escape, time catches up, and you can die of old age immediately, or really soon after. It’s gnarly.” he paused. “Think that’s probably better than suddenly looking younger than your children, and trying to pick up your life, seven, ten, twenty years later.” 

Logan’s chest clenched, as he undid the belt. 

“And… is that similar to the ‘tangle trap’?” 

“Not usually. Especially not in narrative ones.” There was further creaking and the rustling of thick fabric as Remus made himself comfortable. “That would take a great deal more magic than most users have. Fairies are kind of a special case.” 

Logan unfastened the neck and wrists of his shirt, untucking it, and contemplating the benefits of using it for a night shirt versus sleeping in his pants. What was more important to keep covered? He chose shirt, since his pants had probably acquired more dirt than his inner layer, and pulled out the chair from the desk so he could sit down to remove his boots.

“I was just wondering because you indicated you were trapped in time.” 

Remus grunted a vague affirmative. He was watching Logan’s slow disrobing, like the world's most finicky strip teaze. 

“Yeah, but that was more… a bug than a feature? Yeah, that’s it. Whoever did it could have been planning on taking advantage. After all, the book was in Florida- there’s like… maybe a dozen expats there that I know of, and none of them use magic.” 

“Are you implying that people from your world just… go and live in mine?”

“Yeah, it’s adjacent. Sometimes it’s on purpose, sometimes it’s an accident, depends on if they find or make a Cut.” Remus yawned hugely. “Cuts are places where you can pass from one place to another.” 

“Thank you, I was going to ask.” Logan contemplated his feet, and was momentarily glad that they hadn’t had to walk. 

“Techinaly, entering a fairy mound is a Cut, which is another danger; you could come out in a world that wasn’t yours.” 

Logan turned and stared at Remus who was lounging against the pillows, eyes sleepy. 

“Could it have returned me?”

“Nah. Because the fairy hill wasn’t real, it’s just a story. I mean it could fuck you up, and even kill you but that’s just inside the narritive. It couldn’t boot you out, or I woulda tried it. Of course, if you die, your body is ejected, and someone finds you when you start to smell, or it ruins somebody’s dinner party.” 

“I would prefer not to do that.” 

“Mnn.” Remus agreed. “So we’ll avoid dying, I mean, just because it sounds dull. We’re probably going to run into normal travelogue stuff, bad weather, wild animals, terrible roads, bad food, bandits, that kind of thing.” 

“You’re very open about the … narrative what would happen if someone heard you talking about it?”

Remus laughed.

“They’d think I’m a nut job. What would you think if you passed a guy explaining the plot of day to day life?” 

That startled a short laugh out of Logan.

“Fair enough.” With all his clothes folded, Logan had little excuse now. It was… awkward to share a bed with someone he’d just met, but he supposed he’d fallen asleep in the same bed as Remus the night before. He sat on the other side of the bed, and shuffled nervously into place. “So that I suppose is a question answered. Are you going to tell me about the grey hairs now?” He pinched a bit of the loose part of the sleeve, and cleaned his glasses, he went to put them on the nightstand and discovered there was only one and it was on Remus’s side of the bed, holding the lamp which illuminated the room. Remus took the glasses and set them down, turning the lamp off. He slid down into the mattress, which rustled as he moved. It was not as comfortable as the one the night before, Logan noted, as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. 

Remus tucked his hands behind his pillow, and looked at the ceiling instead of at Logan.

“So, you know how I said mages are Marked, right? And that’s what makes the magic flow? You can be naturally Marked, like with a birthmark, and move magic through that. Not as focused though. Or you can do small magics without a Mark. Summon a light, light a fire, block a spell. You just have to know how the spell works. But it wants a Mark to move through, right? So it tries to make or find one. I know some basic spells, it’s just useful. I have enough scars that the magic should move through there, only it doesn’t. It likes to do this.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Which in Sanders kind of looks like what it is; doing spellwork without a mark, so I pluck the hairs when I gotta.” 

“I see.” Logan contemplated this. With the room dark, and the thick duvet trapping their body heat and warming him up, his mind wanted to sleep, not think about the rules of magic. The bed shifted, and his mind flicked back to the body beside him. In his own mind, Logan could admit that aesthetically, Remus beat his last attempted date. That was not why he was here, however, even if they were sharing a bed. It was just that. Perfectly normal. Closing his eyes, and rolling to face away, Logan began counting breaths. If the next day was going to be anything like this one, he’d need all the rest he could get. 

When Logan woke up, there was an arm around his waist, and a warm body pressed up against his back, his shirt having ridden up in the night so their flesh touched. His bedmate was snoring faintly, which didn’t quite cover the sounds of people moving elsewhere in the building. Light trickled in through the window, and Logan faced another day in the fantasy world. He covered his face with his hands and took a shudderingly deep breath. Someone knocked firmly on their door, and suddenly Logan was alone in the bed. In the dim light, he could see the shape of Remus moving to the door, and he leaned over to reclaim his glasses. 

“Did I ask for a wake up call?” Remus rumbled through the cracked door at whoever was outside. 

“Sorry sir!” came a young man’s voice. “It’s just first call for wash water, if you want it.” 

“Right, right. Thanks then.” The door opened further, and then shut again. 

“Well, I’m awake now.” Remus set a pitcher on the desk, next to the pile of Logan’s clothing. “How about you?”

“I suspect you’ve already made the decision, even if I wanted to sleep more.” 

“Hey, if you wanna cuddle you should just say.”

“That is not what I was saying.” Logan protested. 

“Well then, since cuddles are no go, we should get ready. Glad to see your modesty’s losing force.” 

Logan felt his face heat, as Remus propped a hand on his hip, which called attention to the what little he was wearing, and Logan lay back down and pulled the covers over his head. 

“You’re adorable.” Remus hooted. “Like a finishing school virgin. I guess that means I get first crack?” 

“Let me know when you’re done.” Logan confirmed. This was ridiculous. He was an adult. They were both adults. He was aware he was always more physically and emotionally needy when he was tired, wanting connection and contact with other people. And even more so when he felt unsettled, which was partly why he liked his schedule so much. The more controlled his life was, the more control he could have over himself. This was nothing more than a desperate pack-bonding instinct. No matter how attractive he might find Remus- there was no reason for him to act like a schoolgirl with a crush. He could be mature about this. Even if he already knew him more than he did Roman, and he had definitely thought about the barista once or twice- entirely due to aesthetic appreciation with no intention for actual contact. In fact Roman was probably not even aware of him, given the amount of people that passed through The Coffee And Tea Café on a daily basis. Logan thought longingly of the coffee there, and the blueberry-cranberry muffins. He couldn’t possibly be homesick already! Hopefully, he gave himself another pinch under the covers and got nothing but pain for his trouble. Something slapped on the end of the bed near his feet. 

“I’m decent- well, I’m dressed.”

Sticking his head up out of the blanket, he found Remus fastening his jacket, hair slicked back and re-tied. Bafflingly, there was a stick sticking out of his mouth that he was plainly chewing on. Logan blinked as he pulled it out. 

“I’m going to leave you to your own pretty princess time; if you’re finicky, there should be another shirt you can trade out in your bags. Just wrap the soap backup and stick it in the outer pocket when you’re done. Meet me downstairs. If I’m not in the main room, just grab a seat and wait for me.” He waited until Logan nodded, then picked up his bags and left, shutting the door behind him. For now, this was his life. He supposed he’d better get used to it. 

Part of him hoped that he wouldn’t have time to get used to it; non-optimistic travel time aside. At least there was a basic level of hygiene available, though he would have to make a no doubt less than pleasant visit to an outhouse sooner rather than later. 

There had been another stick next to the soap and cloth. Logan had stuck it in his pouch, before heading down stairs, intending to ask about it. 

Remus was not in the main room, but Logan got directions to the outhouse dispite the instructions to wait. There were things that did not wait for anyone. Bracing himself for the worst, Logan was surprised at what he found. While he didn’t find what he would normally expect, it wasn’t too dissimilar. The co-ed nature and the lack of stalls was probably the worst thing. If he had to place it, it would be roman-style, though brick instead of stone, with the top being wood. It had plainly been cleaned recently, and there were air freshening bunches of herbs. If this was the standard, he would probably be okay. Well… toilet paper of some sort would be nice. Maybe he’d stick some innocuous leaves in his pouch the next time he had the opportunity. A waist high trough with a constant stream of water outside even gave him an opportunity to wash his hands. Logan returned to the dining hall, still carrying his saddlebag, trying to work out if the wash station was connected to the trough-urinal inside the privy. Concluding it was, he sat more or less in the same place that he and Remus had claimed the night before. The smell of baked goods was filling the air, but lamentably, no scent of coffee. 

Remus crashed down on the bench across from him.

“Sadly, they won’t let me in the kitchen.” He said.

“... okay.” was the only thing Logan could think to say. “Is that where you were?”

“Well, partly.” As if Remus’s arrival was a signal, the young serving man came over, though his flat expression in response to Remus’s broad grin spoke to how much trouble he had caused trying to get into the kitchen. 

“Why were you trying to get into the kitchen?” Logan asked, inspecting their breakfast, which featured porridge with some sort of dried fruit and a pie that seemed to be made largely of egg and cheese, as well as another smallish loaf of still warm bread and more soft cheese. He was glad there was some astringent smelling hot drink rather than the beer of the night before; Logan was familiar enough with history to know that wouldn’t have been out of the question. 

“To make you coffee.” Remus said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Logan sipped the hot drink, and wrinkled his nose. 

“Why?” He tried the food instead. The porridge wasn’t bad, vaguely sweet with the fruit and probably honey. 

Remus smiled closed mouthed around a bite of the pie. He swallowed and tipped his head. 

“You like schedules, right?” 

Logan nodded in agreement. 

“Routine?”

Again a nod, and he took another sip of the drink, frowning into his mug. It tasted like something familiar, but he couldn’t place what. Some kind of herbal tea, sweet but sharp. 

“And you’re not gonna get that here. We are so fucking far outside your routine we can’t see it with a scryglass. So, my brother makes you coffee every morning, but he’s not here and you’re not there, but I am; so I thought I’d do it.”

“If coffee is available why are we drinking this?” Logan gestured with the mug. “Even tea would be preferable, at least there’s caffeine in that.” what Remus said was percolating through his brain. He was trying to make Logan more comfortable, somehow? “That’s… very kind Remus, but-”

“But what?” He leaned his elbows on the table, chin on the back of his folded hands, smiling at Logan. 

“I think I’m causing quite enough trouble.” Logan said at last. “So perhaps, you could avoid causing trouble on my behalf?” 

“Gotcha! No trouble- only coffee.” 

“That’s not quite what I meant.” Logan protested, but he found himself smiling in spite of himself. That in turn made Remus’s grin broaden. 

“Peachy-keen.” he turned back to his food. “S’not a big deal, anyhow. Looks like there’s a large trade road that goes past here; we can take that east, towards the coast. That’ll keep us moving fast, and probably put us in inns or taverns most nights. I saw some of your wood craft last night, and boy, I do  _ not  _ want to see you try to camp.” 

Logan made a small offended noise, though the supposition was perfectly accurate. 

“I hardly think stumbling around in the dark is equivalent!” 

“Well don’t worry, I’m sure you’re gonna get a dip in the deep end eventually. Sooner rather than later.” He turned his attention on the food. “Anyway; Bulls Hollow doesn’t have a weapon shop, a junk shop or even a daily market, so we’re not gonna get any better prepared here. Better to keep moving. It’ll give me time to figure out what you can do, too.” 

“Not much I’m afraid.” Logan poked at the porridge and resumed eating. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Remus tapped his hand with a spoon, and Logan wiped his hand off, nose wrinkling. “I’ll have fun putting you through your paces.” 

“Don’t talk about it like that.” Logan protested weakly. 

“Test your endurance.” Remus continued as though Logan hadn’t said anything. “Inspect your limbs. Mount up. Ride you hard and put you away we-”

“Yes.” Logan said sharply.

“Yes?” Remus raised both eyebrows, grinning fit to burst. 

“No! I mean, I get what you’re insinuating. Stop.” He held his hands up like that would help, and pressed his palms to his burning cheeks. “There are people who could overhear you. Stop.”

Remus leaned forward across the table, and whispered. 

“So only in private then?” 

Logan took Remus’s face in both hands and shoved him away, which didn’t bother the redhead, since he just started laughing. Trying to recollect his dignity, he finished eating, and refused to speak to Remus until they had left the inn. 

Not speaking to him had not been easy, at least at first, but once they were on the road, Remus had fallen back to talking under his breath apparently to himself, interspersed with snippets of songs. Sometimes the snippits repeated, the lyrics getting subtly different every repeat; and Logan suspected that had more to do with Remus changing them as he went than the song’s actual form. By Logan’s reckoning it hadn’t been a half an hour of them riding down the well packed road- in town there had been smoothish rock paths, not cobblestone, but close, but that hadn’t lasted past the town limits- before Remus sighed explosively and urged Samson closer to Logan.

“I can’t say I won’t do it again, because I probably will, but I’ll try to tone it down?” he offered. “I mean, I got bad impulse control, and you got an adorable face and broad shoulders, and body all the way down.”

“Thank you I think?” 

Shaking his head, Remus sighed. 

“It might be me, but do you always act like you got a stick up your ass like you were preparing yourself for the world’s biggest dick, so-”

“I have no idea how you think you’re going to salvage that statement.” 

“So,” Remus continued. “I wanna help you relax. And for me that means I’m a little friendly.”

“Friendly?” Logan scoffed. 

“Yeah, friendly. Overly familiar I guess, but you  _ are _ hot, and like, the first person I’ve seen in a year, which may be messing me up a bit.” 

“Oh my god.” Logan said quietly, staring at Remus.

“Remus is fine.”

“Oh my god, I… I’m sorry.” 

“And now I’m confused.”

“Somehow, I managed to gloss over or forget that you said you were isolated.” 

“I said I was trapped in time, not quite the same thing.”

“You’ve been under an incredible psychological strain, and are probably suffering from touch starvation to boot. Unorthodox and crude as you are, you’ve been nothing but kind and understanding for my ignorance, and I have been far less understanding towards you. I probably have been subconsciously blaming you for my presence here at all.”

“Well, that’s not entirely wrong.” Remus admitted, shifting in the saddle. Logan stretched out his hand, and after a moment of staring, Remus took it. Their feet brushed together as the horses walked flank to flank. 

“No, I don’t think so. Your politics and the ‘tangle trap’ may be responsible for this entire fiasco, but you are not.” He sighed. “I don’t think I’d be sane if I came in no contact with anyone for that long, let alone if time didn’t seem to pass.” 

“You’re giving me maybe undue credit there, Spec-tacular.” Remus snorted, looking a little uncomfortable. He squeezed the hand he held however.

“The impression you’ve given me is that you were somewhat like… you are before. So you’re probably not mad.” 

“That’s the nicest thing someone’s said to me in ages.” Remus fluttered his lashes, but reluctantly let go. 

“Well apparently there isn’t much in the running.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Now, do you think sticking to the main trade road, as you said is going to keep us out of trouble?”

Remus looked briefly confused at the swing in topic. 

“Well less likely to run into fairies, more likely to run into bandits. Course, there’s only two of us, and we’re not moving fast, so if I was a bandit, which I’m not at present, I’d assume the most valuable thing on us is the horses, which isn’t really worth the trouble if you don’t personally want a horse.”

Logan chose to ignore that rather specific example. 

“Why would the speed we were traveling matter? And I thought we were moving as fast as we could?” 

“If we were couriers, we’d be going faster, since we could trade horses out; but then we’d also be carrying things of value, even if it was just like letters and shit. We’re in more danger from the narrative.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

“Well, remember what I said about the tangle trap- we’re essentially inside a story. We’re the main characters- or just one of us, given it didn’t start until we were both here- and the story does not make things easy for the main character. We’ve got our goal, that is head to the coast, following the route, and that’s going to make things easier, because if you hadn’t seen that map we would have had to try and figure out our goal without it. The Goal is the end of the story, like a Gory knot. We thread the story, the trap ends.” 

“So we need to find the reason we’re traveling towards the coast, and that will help us know what to expect.” Logan said thoughtfully. 

“Right- we’ve got one clue, that your role is that of a scholar, or a scholar's heir, which is kind of a softer version, you’re not expected to know as much as a learned one, and it’s not weird if you’re a little sheltered, since in theory, you probably haven’t left the Fire Mountain Lodge much.”

“A traditional reason would be leaving for further education.” Logan suggested. “Or some sort of task that a specific school of knowledge is needed in a distant location.” 

“And myself your companion- or sent to bring you back. Still could be a romance…” he offered playfully. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Logan said dryly. 

“The old scholar was probably some kind of pacifist since there was no trace of weapons in the lodge; so teaching you to defend yourself could be a plot point.” 

“Fair enough, that would follow the tradition of someone becoming less sheltered and more self sufficient.” Logan frowned. “And my encounter with the fairies would fall into that category as well. I wish I had some idea what kind of knowledge I am supposed to  _ have _ however. Trapped in a ‘coming of age’ story at my point in life. Ridiculous.”

Remus laughed to himself, then sobered. 

“But I’m going to have to find a weapon for at least one of us.”

“Won’t that make us more of a target?”

“It’s a throw up.” Remus admitted.

“Do you mean toss up?”

“Whatever.” he waved his hand dismissively. “It makes us look prepared for trouble, which means we look like we have a reason we’re expecting it-  _ that  _ makes us more of a target. But we’d still look prepared for it, so anyone wanting to cause trouble would know they’d be getting some back. It’s not like I’m gonna drag you into a bar fight and see how it turns out.” 

“Thank goodness.” Logan breathed. He could throw a punch; he’d taken a class at the gym a few years ago, so he could safely let his temper out on the punching bags. He’d dislocated a thumb, embarrassingly, before the trainer suggested he take the class. That didn’t mean he was interested in trying out what he knew against human beings- which is why he hadn’t mentioned it to Remus. 

“You should have a couple books in your bag, though.” Remus flicked his fingers at the saddle bags. “Stuck ‘em in with the extra shirts and stuff.” 

Logan twisted a little bit to look at the bags curiously. 

“I can see I should have examined them more thoroughly. Ah… that reminds me. What is the purpose of the stick?”

“The … stick?” Remus blinked for a moment. “Oh! Yeah, it’s a licorice root. It gets all mushy fibrous when you chew on it. It’s for cleaning your teeth with. You can use other sticks, but they last well and taste better than some.” 

“Oh.” he blinked. “That does fill a gap in hygiene. Thank you.” 

“Whew culture shock, you’re gonna be fun in a bathhouse, I can tell that now.” Remus laughed. “But for now,” His smile broadened, and he looked down the road. “Different lesson. Remember what I said about going downhill on a horse?”

“Yes. Lean back. But the road is fairly flat here”

“Right- so when they get moving, you want to rise up a bit in the stirrups.” he demonstrated. “Not too far, just so you can move with the jolts.”

“What do you mean, ‘get moving’’?” Logan asked, suddenly concerned, as Remus clucked to his horse, and without lowering himself from his slightly raised posture, kicked it into movement. Without consulting Logan at all Phillip joined Samson’s pace, shooting down the road after him. He was jolted back and forth in the saddle until he managed to tighten his legs and rise up, treating his legs like shock absorbers. Only then did he feel the rush of air on his face, as the pace evened out. He was somewhere between terrified and exhilarated. Logicaly, they couldn’t have been going that fast, but compared to the brisk ramble that had been their pace so far it was incredible. It was different then being in a car; they probably weren’t even going thirty miles an hour, it just felt faster, with the organic connection of the horse’s hooves hitting the ground. One-two-three, One-two-three, One-two-three. Before it had been four beats. The horses clearly wanted to stay together, with Remus leading slightly, leaning forward towards his horse’s neck, grinning. He looked wild and almost ecstatic. A jolt reminded Logan to focus on himself. If he fell from the horse at the moment, escaping injury would be unlikely to say the least. 

Remus had them cantering a few more times that morning, and the movement got easier each time for Logan. However by noon his legs were exhausted. They found a place to rest allowing the horses to browse the growth beside the road. Despite his lack of desire to get dirty at all. Logan allowed himself to sprawl out on the scrubby moss beneath the clump of oaks that sprouted out of the middle of a boundary wall. He didn’t realise Remus had gotten close until he felt hands on the back of his leg again.

“Chill.” Remus ordered as Logan kicked out. “This’ll feel good, I promise.” Before Logan could formulate how  _ awful _ that sounded fingers dug into his sore muscles and a groan popped out of his mouth instead. Whatever Remus was doing was wonderful, and he would gladly put up with innuendos for it to continue. Before long Remus had moved onto the other leg, leaving Logan feeling relaxed and much more comfortable. “C’mon, get on your back, show me your pretty face.” urged the other man, and Logan rolled over, allowing Remus to pull him into a sitting position. “Better?”

“Yes.” Logan admitted. “Thank you.”

“I just love hearing those sounds.” Remus leered in a friendly way, and handed over a canteen. 

“Are you always like this?” Logan asked, taking a sip, and finding it to be full of some sort of sweet drink that tasted sharp but not unpleasant. He thought there might be ginger in it. Somehow it made his legs feel better. 

“Nah, sometimes I’m worse.” Remus tore a small loaf of bread in two with his hands, and passed half over. 

“Ah. Something to look forward to.” Logan grumbled, as he fished out his napkin to put over his lap. Remus just laughed. 

“You’ll be fine.” He chewed on his bread and cut slices of a hard cheese and apple to pass to Logan. It reminded him of something.

“You have a second knife.” he said. “On the back of your belt. It’s quite large.” 

“Oh honeytrap, you got no idea.” snorted his companion. “So when did you notice it?”

Logan thought back and realised that he’d seen it before. 

“I noticed it in the sheath while you were riding, but you had it out this morning when you answered the door.” 

“Not bad.” Remus raised his eyebrows, and produced the knife. It was larger than the knives they ate with, probably not much more than a foot long, hilt included. The blade was broad and single edged, though the angled tip was sharp on both edges. There was a carved gemstone set in the pommel making it look fancier but it was a fairly simple design. A weapon. 

“And this isn’t armed?”

“This is not.” Remus confirmed, flipping it in the air before catching it and returning it to the sheath at the small of his back. “It’s more than a hold out blade, but it’s not  _ armed _ .” Having carved slices out of the apple until there was nothing else, he ate the core. Logan wrinkled his nose, and suddenly had to fight off Phillip who had decided that Logan wasn’t going to eat the rest of his bread. Horses. Logan did not get the allure. 

By dusk they arrived uneventfully in Stonage, which featured a smaller common house than Bull’s Hollow, not even named, simply the place where the locals bought beer in the evening and food if they didn’t want to cook. Probably mostly through barter. Even Remus seemed less than impressed. The ale was darker, thicker and more alcoholic, if Logan was any judge. He very much feared he would be a judge by the time they escaped. Beer had never been his drink of choice. He drank it anyway. As much as he hated to make waves, he requested wash water before sleeping. He still wasn’t ready to wear the- well they were essentially linen boxer shorts- but wearing them as underwear made him vaguely uncomfortable. Though he relented enough to use them as night clothes, as he rinced his underwear out and left it to dry draped over the back of the spindly chair the room provided. Remus looked mostly amused, stretched out on top of the quilt on the bed, looking over the map. 

“You might take a look in your bags, so you know what you got.”

“Presumably you packed them, couldn’t you just tell me?”

“You don’t want to?” Remus raised an eyebrow. Logan proceeded to turn the saddle bags out. It was odd, Logan concluded at how little camping goods there were. There had been a roll with a blanket that stayed with the saddle, but there was nothing Logan would identify as camping gear in the saddle bags. One had a flask covered in leather tied to it, full of lightly flavored water There was a bag of dried fruit and meat, a small box full of salt of all things, the wrapped lump of soap, a few of the sticks Remus had identified as tooth cleaning, a small flask full of some sort of scented oil, a broad toothed comb and a cloth that was larger than the napkins, so it was probably a towel. Another section held a selection of rags and a brush suitable for a horse, as well as a box full of things that might be for firestarting, but he didn’t know how to use it. The other bag held a second set of clothes- the jacket and trouser combination; perhaps slightly more fancy, black with silver and blue embroidery, and four shirts ranging from white to black, two of which he’d worn now. A similar amount of the linen under garments and stockings. A tightly folded garment Logan thought resembled a shawl more than a cloak, and a bag full of jewelry, rings, broaches, and little charms and bands to be clipped into his hair. Tucked in among those were three books. As Logan tried and failed to fold the garments as neatly as they had been before, he left the books on the bed. They weren’t large, they could fit in the satchel with his modern clothes. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he flipped through one. 

“The Kingdom of Gurinkot-” he read out loud as Remus put down the map and looked over at him. “More of a collective than a true Kingdom, it occupies a relatively thin strip of arable land between the Feldspar Mountain Range and the Asten Ocean. It is divided roughly into ‘Rides’, the distance someone can travel across in a fortnight, though more densely populated Rides are somewhat smaller. Each town in a Ride has an elected leader, who in turn test the suitability and abilities of the Counts who are in charge of the Ride, as well as being responsible for bringing issues to the Count’s attention. The Council of Counts in turn meet annually to speak to the Crown.” 

“The Crown?” Remus asked. 

“That is apparently the name of the office.” Logan said somewhat doubtfully. 

“Huh. That explains some things. Though a lot of the books I read seemed to be from a different land than this.” He poked the page. “Different typeset. The way letters are cast for fonts tends to be really regional.” he chuckled, leaning his chin on Logan’s bare shoulder. Logan swallowed and adjusted his glasses, looking back at the page. 

“At the insistence of five or more Counts, a Council can be called at any time, to deal with unexpected issues.” Logan continued, trying to ignore the gentle pressure of Remus’s chin on his shoulder, and the arms framing his hips, supporting Remus’s weight. “A complete Council of Counts can call for the Crown to be removed and replaced, though this has not been done within three generations. The Crown is a hereditary position, and is occupied by the most fit of the generation, determined by the Counts, and through them the towns of the Rides. In the instance of the Crown’s removal, the immediate family of the Crown are rarely considered.” He leafed through more pages about what the Counts and the Crown’s duties were, a list of the different Ridings, which led to a list of primary exports. Gurinkot apparently had a great port system and exported many things, from fruit to lumber to finished pottery and woodwork. 

“That explains the massive trade road network for a kingdom this size.” Remus observed. “I wouldn’t expect a road network this well maintained unless there was a major military presence. Hey, what’s it say about that?” He shifted so his body was pressed against Logan’s back and thoughtlessly looped his arms around the other man’s waist, chin still hooked over his shoulder. Logan cleared his throat awkwardly, and shifted his shoulders slightly. When Remus didn’t get the hint, he focused back on the book. “Oh here it is, it’s a malita style, volunteer on a Ride based system. The Counts are responsible for training them and housing the training, usually in the winter. In larger towns the malita is more formalised, and functions as a policing force.” 

“Practical. Similar to Sanders, actually, except there’s a paid army.” Remus yawned and sat up slightly, swinging his legs around, framing Logan further and bringing the map around to lay on top of Logan’s book. “So we’re in the border mountains, north of the main passes. There’s orchards and mines.” he pointed at the beginning of the pencil line. “And we’re heading south and east, towards the ocean.”

“The end that I recall doesn’t seem to be centered on anything.” Logan said, frowning at the map. 

“Could be you’re not remembering quite right, or it’s an old map. Hard to tell.” 

“Ah- you’re  _ quite _ close to me.” Logan said at last. 

“Yep.” Remus started rolling the map up, still curled around Logan. He had to move to put it back into the case. Logan let out a sigh of relief, and picked up one of the other books. Compared to the generalized history and economy of the first, the second seemed to be about math and technical engineering. Applied geometry, as it were. As he picked up the third book, Logan was overcome with a yawn. Pushing his glasses up, he tried to wipe the sleepiness from his eyes. Instead he sort of settled into the straw stuffed mattress. Before he could read it, the candle was extinguished. 

“Remus!” he said sharply. 

“Ask me if I care.” Mumbled the duke, settling onto his side of the bed. “Sleep, dummy.” 

“I’m not used to sleeping this early.” Logan mumbled, setting the books in a pile beside the bed, and using them for a surface to put his glasses on. 

“That’s a terrible excuse.” 

Logan tried to give a semblance of privacy by turning his back to Remus, but this was foiled by his being almost immediately spooned.

“I beg your pardon!” 

“It’s a small bed.” He could feel Remus smiling against the back of his neck, so that wasn’t very convincing. 

“That’s a terrible excuse.” Logan shot back. Remus snorted in amusement. 

“Is it really a problem?” 

It wasn’t. Logan wouldn’t want to admit it, but it felt nice. Warm and protected. His mind was already shutting down into slumber, and thought for just a moment, about the all too brief kiss at the border of the fairy hill. 

Apparently, this town was small enough to have the day start with roccus birdsong. It wasn’t as if Logan was a fan of nature before, but this kind of wakeup call was enough to push towards active dislike. Despite an excellent night’s sleep he remained in a foul mood until the town was far behind them. 

“So is this a morning thing, or a morning with no coffee thing?” Remus demanded. “Because I will double my effort to get into kitchens if I have to.”

“I wasn’t aware I was normally pleasant company.” Logan grumbled, and tensed up so much that Phillip sped up slightly. 

“... did I push it too far last night?” 

The question seemed to come out of nowhere. 

“What?” Logan actually turned in the saddle, staring back at Remus. 

“Look, I’m a fuckin’ flirt the best of days, with very little sense of personal space, but I know not everybody is like that. I mean, if I remember right, friends don’t even kiss in Florida, right?” 

“Not usually, no. Especially not male friends.” Logan confirmed.

“So hugs are probably not happening either, huh?”

“It’s getting better.” 

“So, since you didn’t have someone, you probably weren’t getting touched much more than me.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Logan tried to brush it off. Certainly his lack of connection with others was hardly comparable to a year of isolation. “And no, you… it didn’t bother me. Just surprising.” 

“Surprising?” Remus gave a bark of laughter. “What, have I been subtle? Anything but  _ that _ .” 

“I don’t leap into physical relationships easily.” Logan followed him with his eyes as Remus brought their horses abreast again. “I don’t make connections well. With people.” He swallowed. “And this situation … I don’t know if I’d want to complicate it.” 

“That’s a lot of don’ts.” Remus observed. “What do you do?” 

“Pardon?” 

“You’re talking about what you don’t. So what do you do?”

“I… not much I suppose.” He thought about it. He was content enough with his schedule, his life. But... if he had to describe it to someone else, he could see how it wouldn’t seem like much at all. 

“You’re doing something now.” Remus pointed out. “Have a little adventure. No one has to know about it later, right? Just… I dunno. Cut loose. Might be good for you.”

Logan gave a bark of laughter. 

“I don’t think I’d know how. This is just who I am. I accept it.” 

“I don’t.”

“What?” 

Remus had turned away from him, however, watching birds fly overhead. 

“Hey, is it called jizz where you’re from?”

“What?!” 

“Birdwatching. When you get the first idea of what it is, is it jizz?”

“I… I don’t know.” 

“I only ask, because jizz is also-” 

“I am aware it’s slang for semen.” Logan cut him off. “What do you mean  _ birdwatching _ ?” 

“Well, a bird in the hand is-” Remus made an up and down motion with one hand, fingers loosely curled. 

“Oh dear god.”

That night they did not reach a town, instead, somewhat before sundown they took a short turn off the trade road to a clearing where there was what Logan could only describe as a campsite. There was a three walled shed, a pump and horse trough and a dry stone fire pit. Remus taught him how to groom the horses, clean the harness, what wood was good to gather from the nearby trees, despite the fact there was a wood pile by the shed, and what the things in the tinderbox did. Logan suddenly understood why they had stopped what he had considered ‘early’. Camping out, even in an established campsite like this was a great deal of work. When he mentioned it, Remus pointed out they weren’t even hunting for food. Logan silently hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“We should hit a bigger town by the end of the week. If we make good time tomorrow, we’ll be in a mining hub.” He laid a few pieces of wood carefully onto the fire, then shrugged off his jacket, followed by his belt. “Now then, c’mere cutie.” he crooked a finger at Logan, moving away from the shed into the empty space in front of it. 

“You’re going to have to elaborate.”

“I said I was gonna find out how well you fight, so come at me.” He grinned. “Don’t go easy, baby, I can take it.” 

“I’d rather not.” Logan said fussily. 

“I could insult your mother.”

“Oh by all means, take a shot in the dark at that one.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Respect the classics. Start with her girth. I’m not going to leap to her defense over a few childish taunts.” 

“Yeah, no, your mama is so fucked up she had a kid just to stick the extra in.”

“Ah.” Logan exhaled explosively. “I see.” 

Remus pondered and tried again. “Your mama’s so repressed, you came out in a three peice suit.”

Logan actually laughed. 

“Are you trying to make me laugh?” 

“Nah, but it’s sure a perk.” 

“If I take a swing at you, will you stop?” 

“Maybe.” Remus pondered for a moment. “Oh got it, your mama-” before he could finish Logan had closed the distance surprisingly quickly, and buried his fist into Remus’s solar-plexus. Remus coughed staggering back. “Didn’t raise a fool apparently.” he choked, but he was laughing at the same time. 

“Satisfied?”

“Better than I thought.” Remus admitted and grabbed at Logan, who tried to jerk back, but was grappled and thrown over the other man’s hip. He tried to get up and a boot to his bottom sent him sprawling back down.

“That was just uncalled for!” he protested, scrabbling up. Remus grinned impishly. Logan adjusted his glasses, frowning. 

“C’mon, pretty boy.” Remus cooed, arms wide and inviting. “Dance with me. You knew not to go for the face. You’ve been holding out on me.” 

“I do not wish to fight.” Logan said stiffly. “Not you, and not anyone else. If I have to fight I’ve already lost.” 

“Interesting philosophy.” Remus lunged for him, and Logan tried to jerk out of the way, but found himself grappled again, this time by the front of his coat. “What happens when no one shares it?” Logan’s mind raced and his leg came up, deflected from a rude blow by Remus’s shifting stance, but since his goal had been to stomp down hard on the other man’s foot,it was fine. The move would have been more effective if the soles of his boots had been harder. Remus yelped and laughed, letting go of his coat, and Logan thought he could back away, but too quickly he was being bear hugged, absolutely crushed against Remus. After a few seconds of struggling- how strong were Remus’s arms?! Rather than anything else, he drew up both legs, wrapping them around Remus’s waist and the motion threw them off balance- and fortunately collapsing with Remus on the bottom, which knocked the air from his lungs again, though it was hard to tell how bad it was because he almost instantly started laughing. Logan’s intent to scramble away was lessened by the fact the collision with the ground had knocked the air out of him as well.

“Are we finished?” Logan asked petulantly, sitting up. 

“Your core strength is not kidding around.” Remus patted Logan’s stomach affectionately, and Logan half heartedly swatted it away. “Yeah, we can be done for now.” He let his hands rest gently on Logan’s thighs as the other man didn’t get off him immediately. The sun was going down and they were enveloped in a soft reddish twilight. “You know.” he said idly. “This is not how I pictured you wanting to be on top.” 

Logan jerked a bit, then fought down his automatic blush, arms crossed over his chest protectively.

“Perhaps I’m just keeping you down so you don’t resume your foolishness.” 

Wiggling his shoulders against the dirt, Remus rubbed his thumb against Logan’s leg. 

“Honeytrap it is then.” He grinned as Logan’s eyes flared open. “Aw, c’mon, commit if you’re gonna flirt, handsome.” 

Choking down how flustered he felt, Logan leaned down, putting his hands on either side of Remus’s face. 

“And what if I did?” he asked, voice low. He was rewarded by a visible flush and the rapid dilation of pupils. It sounded almost as if he’d knocked the breath out of the duke for a third time. Then his head tipped up and their lips met, soft, dry pressure. It lasted just long enough for Logan to realise he  _ had _ been flirting, then Remus pulled back. 

“So glad we’re getting friendly.'' The low rumble was almost a growl, and his hand slid around Logan’s neck. Before anything else could happen they both looked up as hoofbeats sounded on the road. Logan leapt to his feet, and Remus followed more slowly, looking somewhat put out, as a handful of people leading a short train of donkeys came down the path to the campsite. 

“Ah nice! Someone’s already here! Well met fellow travelers!” Called the man at the head of the train. By the time they were in the camp clearing entirely, and he could count them all, Remus was all smiles again. 

There was little socialization all things considered, the merchant troupe just was worried about getting a fire lit in the dimming crimson twilight, fair enough given by the time they’d tended their animals it was full dark. They all ate around the fire, gossiping about road conditions, and commenting on the price of the goods they were bringing north, and then Logan found himself sandwiched between the wall of the shed and Remus, laid out on the thin pad that was part of the bedding, with their saddles and tack creating a further wall between them and the other travelers. It made him worry that Remus was planning something with other people that close. But no, he settled in his own bed roll head on the saddlebag, and as far as Logan could tell had gone straight to sleep. Well. It would be better to follow his example. Logan curled the wool blanket around himself, and put his back to the other man’s.

It was cold and Logan hated it trying to curl deeper into his blanket, wrapping both the blanket and his arms around himself. It was colder than it had been before, he was sure. Slowly he came to realise that there were sounds outside his blanket, but he did not care. It was cold, it was too early for him to be awake, he wanted to sleep, and he didn’t want to deal. There was a soft sound underneath everything else. 

“Wakey-wakey book boy.” Came a voice, much closer. And a faint curl of a familiar smell. Logan relented enough to lift a corner of his blanket, peering myopically out. Remus squatted beside him, holding two mugs. The light was gray and dim. “It’s not going to get any better, you might as well come out.”

“It’s cold.” Logan complained, but as he did he realised he had double the blankets he’d gone to sleep with. He’d also migrated across both pads, which meant he’d somehow stolen the other blanket. Hopefully not too early in the night. 

“And it’s raining!” Remus agreed far too cheerfully. “Get up anyway. I made coffee.” Logan emerged, and was handed a mug and his glasses. The other travelers were already gone. He huddled under the blankets, and sipped at the thick, sweet coffee. Raining was perhaps an optimistic description, it was dripping and gray and unpleasant. Logan had lived his life in Florida, and he was used to rain being more intense. 

“Are we going to ride in this?” he muttered.

“What, you’d rather sit in a cold shed all day doing nothing?” Remus demanded sharply. Phillip and Samson were in the shed now, Logan noted. “Apparently, the mining town is closer than it looks, and it’s more downhill, so we’ll be there tonight easy, and that’ll be a lot better.” 

Logan sipped at the coffee and glared at the weather but sighed nonetheless, slowly emerging from his cocoon. It was even colder than it looked. He was surprised he couldn’t see his breath.

“I hope the cape is more waterproof than it looks, then.” Finishing the coffee, he wrapped the cape from his bags around himself, then washed his face and mug with cold water. The cape was surprisingly warm, even if it was constantly trying to slip off. He returned to the shed, and Remus gave an exasperated sigh, digging a broach out of the bag of jewelry, completely rewrapping Logan’s cape and pinning it in place. 

“I keep forgetting you’re like a giant man-baby.” He grumbled, setting Logan’s collar to rights again. “Just no idea how to do anything.” 

“Are you allergic to water? Afraid you’ll melt?” Logan snapped back. “Or did you galavant off with one of the merchants last night and catch something itchy?” 

Remus gave a bark of laughter. 

“Oh why would you care?” 

Logan frowned, and opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it and turned away, glaring at the horses instead. 

“Show me how to put the tack back on.” he demanded. “I wouldn’t want to remain an infant.” Remus managed to do that without growling any more.

The rain was a steady sprinkle for the entire morning. Neither Samson nor Phillip liked it, as evidenced by their resigned postures and cranky ear flicks, but they continued plodding on. Water spilled on the outside of the cape and ran down into his pants, but his boots were fairly water repellant as well. It wasn’t until they were walking to rest the horses that Remus finally spoke up. He hadn’t even been mumbling and singing to himself.

“So. Slavery.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Logan jumped at the sudden statement. 

“Slavery.” Remus repeated. “I’m not asking to pull your book out now; but, you might want to make a note for later. Slavery is apparently a thing.” 

Logan’s skin crawled. 

“How… did you find this out?” 

“The merchant. The friendly, talkative one? He owned the others. Apparently you can like, earn your way out of it, it’s just something that happens, but…”

“There’s no slavery in Sanders?”

“My great-grandfather was stolen and put into slavery as a child.” Remus said, very seriously. “It was something that happened more to the beast-hearted, but it happened. Once he was rescued, he started to push abolition. His first major act as king was to outlaw it, and he fought it his whole life. So, yeah, no slavery in Sanders.” 

“Is this what put you in a mood this morning? I mean... I suppose it was your turn.” Logan removed his glasses and cleaned them pointlessly, since they immediately started getting wet again. “I didn’t thank you for the coffee. Thank you.” 

Remus gave a weak laugh. He hadn’t tied his hair back today, and it straggled around his face, sticking to his cheeks and neck above his cape. He looked tired. Logan assumed he looked no better, even if his braids were tied back. He knew his nose was running from the chill.

“I was just on edge. I heard him joking about how much you’d fetch at a market place.” He huffed. “I didn’t like hearing it.” Petulantly, he kicked at the road. “Also what the fuck, it was so cold last night.” 

“Agreed.” Logan huffed. “Did I steal your blanket?”

“Mnn. Eventually. First you played heat seeking mole. That was nice.” 

“We may need to just start out that way the next time we camp out.” Logan said, gaze purposely forward. 

“We can cuddle any time, sweetie.” Remus sounded a good bit more like himself. 

“Honestly, I’m a trifle relieved.” Logan said. “I was afraid that our… ‘tustle’ last night had crossed some sort of line.”

“Didn’t cross near enough lines.” Remus muttered laughing under his breath. “So what’s your mother actually like?” 

“What, so you can insult her accurately next time?” the edge of his mouth turned up.

“I'm making conversation brainiac. My mom was a mage. She was marked on her hands.” He spread one hand and tapped his fingers on his palm one after another- a nice dextrous trick. “I guess she could have hidden it, but there wouldn’t be much point in that? She had red-brown hair. It was really dark and thick, and she was just starting to get gray streaks at her temples last time I saw her.” he trailed off then. Logan supposed it would be appropriate to reciprocate a little.

“My mother was very intelligent,” he said. “She put value on it, on knowing how to read situations, and having the knowledge to assess things. She taught me that I should think before I speak, and research before I act. That no learning is ever wasted.” 

“So was she pretty too, or did you get your looks from your dad?” 

“I … I suppose we had similar features?” Logan said like he hadn’t really thought about that. “I mean, you could tell she was my mother.” 

“Please tell me that you aren’t one of those nerds who doesn’t realise they’re hot.” Remus whined. “Because if I have to try and sprinkle more compliments in to get through to you I may combust.” 

“I am aware of my appealing aesthetics, yes.” he couldn’t say he particularly felt attractive at the moment, but who would with mud on their shoes walking through the rain? Some British romantic hero, he supposed. “That and my intelligence at least are things I have in my favor.” 

“Nice set.” 

“Thank you.”

“Nice ass too.” 

“Yes, thank you.” Logan sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“That was a good trick with your legs, by the way, since we’re talking about tussling.”

“I thought we were talking about our parents.” 

“That petered off fast.” Remus considered it. “I’m guessing neither of us knew our fathers.” 

“You said yours died?”

“When I was a baby. Can’t say I ever met him. Had a stepfather for a few years. He was alright.”

“My father is alive just…” Logan thought about it, trying to picture his father. Long twists, similar to Logan’s hair, but more so, tinted with gray, and oval glasses. “Not around. He’s a Professor. When I was a child, he was always traveling. And when he was home he was with my mother.”

That he could picture, the two of them wrapped in each other, swaying. His father’s voice a low rumbling monotone, murmuring things Logan couldn’t make out from where he sat watching on the stairs, to be joined with his mother’s rich voice answering back like two parts of a song. 

“I suppose he just wasn’t very interested in me.” It wasn’t that he didn’t care, or wasn’t proud of him. His father always showed up for graduations and awards ceremonies. Logan had been tempted to get a masters degree just for that moment of contact, but in the end he couldn’t think of anything he wanted enough to pursue with any kind of passion. His father had a passion for teaching, his mother had a passion for learning, though she was also a teacher, just at a local teaching hospital. Logan couldn’t think of anything that would drive him so far or hard, to focus on that before everything else. They both had a passion for each other. When they saw each other, nothing else mattered for them. 

Even their son. 

No. Logan couldn’t picture himself having that depth of emotion. He supposed it was possible, but it just seemed unlikely. 

“Well, his loss.” Remus elbowed him.

“You really seem to have a misconception that I’m interesting. I suppose that could just be aesthetic attraction.”

“Definitely part of it.” Remus agreed. “But you had the patience to untangle the knot to the trap, which means there’s something interesting about you.” 

“Is that not normal?”

“Eh...” Remus wrinkled his nose, sneezed, and rubbed his nose against his cuff. “I wanna say no? I’m afraid I’ve kind of blown my wad on what I know about tangle traps at this point.” 

“That’s reassuring.” Logan said dryly. His companion made a tossing gesture, like he was letting go of something. 

“I’m kinda out of reassuring.” 

“Are you that worried about the slavery thing?” Logan had to admit he had concerns himself. If they had to worry about being abducted- if they had value as bodies rather than what they might have been carrying- that was another thing to be concerned about. 

“I’ve got a list!” Remus replied with fake cheer. “I’ll feel better once I feel like I’m in a good space to protect us.” he paused thoughtfully. “You’re probably better off than most people, fighting wise. I’ll show you how to use a knife or something later.” 

“Thank you?” Logan said uncertainly. He wasn’t particularly interested in learning that, but still. No knowledge was wasted. 

The day dragged on grey and damp, a deluge catching them slightly after midday, soaking right through their capes. The harder rain only lasted about an hour, part of which they sheltered under a tree for. The wool remained warm, thankfully, and Logan started to suspect the outer garments of their traveling clothes were also made of wool, since the chill never descended further than distinctly uncomfortable. Not that he couldn’t tell that the constant chill wasn’t wearing on his immune system. Normally he would never just spend all day wet and chilled. Normal was, however, out the proverbial window. This was normal now? Though Remus didn’t seem to care for it either. When the town came in sight, shapes and lights in the darkening twilight gloom he mumbled something that sounded somewhere between a prayer and a curse. 

“Ah, fuck yeah, there’s a bath house.” Remus wiggled happily as they walked down the street. It appeared this town had several taverns as well as the inn, which were filled with rockus crowds of men and women in varying states of cleanliness. Under the increasing rainfall, Logan could smell the faint tang of mineral rich hot water. He couldn’t recall a time he felt so much like his entire body was salivating at the thought of something. The idea of getting into a tub of hot water and just staying there was like a physical hunger. 

The inn’s stable here didn’t have an attendant; anyone who came in was expected to attend to their own animals, so they did, Remus half watching Logan and calling advice and instruction. It was just as important to get their mounts dry and clean as it was to warm themselves. Being slightly shagger than Logan remembered seeing horses being before, they took a bit of rubbing and brushing to get dry. Fortunately after the long day in the rain, even the stable was a warm, delightfull haven, lit with a few well placed lamps, and warmed by a few animals already drowsing in their stalls. Logan was charmed by the clever lamps, their chimneys being double-walled, holding a pocket of water, rounded like a lens, which had the effect of increasing the spread of light- and if the lamp fell, the water would likely extinguish the flame. But perhaps he was just exhausted, since Remus had to steer him into the main building of the inn with a hand on his shoulder. If there hadn’t been a bath in store, Logan would have been tempted to curl into a pile of hay and just sleep. 

Blue Wells Inn rented rooms both by the night and by the month, being the oldest and best established boarding house in the Blue Wells mining town. They had first claim on the blue, mineral rich water of the hot springs that was constantly drained out of the mines. It was clear that at one point it was the only establishment, by the attached bath house and bakery. 

Since he was neck deep in a large bath, Logan didn’t particularly care for the history of it, just reveling in the warmth and the knowledge that his clothing was being washed and dried, so he didn’t even have to try and wring out his own cloak. He blessed the expediency of Remus’s coin purse, and kept his eyes shut. 

Keeping his eyes shut was really just a courtesy, because apparently bathing was communal and mixed. The mixed didn’t really do anything for him; women were pleasant enough but not attractive to him. But the communal was a little more difficult. Remus had given up sitting and was actually floating nearby. Logan guessed that was probably a little rude, if only because no one else did, and it was Remus, and he’d gotten used to the man’s apparently purposeful refusal to adhere to societal norms. While they weren’t the only ones using the bath to warm up, the other bathers trickled out, leaving them alone. There was nothing but the echoing sound of water sloshing slightly and bouncing against the walls for several minutes. Logan opened his eyes and started expecting his braids. His hair had been tended the week before, so it should be alright, but he was under a great deal of stress. Not having his glasses on made everything seem more hazy and warm, an interesting phenomenon. The water sloshed against him as Remus ceased playing floating starfish and leaned on the broad wooden edge of the pool nearby. Judging from his body language, he was watching Logan. This was borne out by his sudden shift to his knees and picking up a few braids, running his fingers over them curiously. 

“You really should ask before you touch someone’s hair.” Logan growled without heat. 

“You literally washed my hair a half an hour ago.” Remus retorted. “A scalp massage was involved. It was  _ magical _ .” 

“And I asked first.” Logan looked down, flushing. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him. He’d been partly following the lead of other people who were bathing, as bathing in pairs was apparently normal. Part of him had just wanted to do something nice for Remus who had been remarkably patient with Logan’s lack of skill and knowledge. Judging from the reaction it had been heavily appreciated, and somehow it made Logan feel less awkward about the nudity, though he had kept a towel around his waist until they’d entered the tub. He felt more awkward now, and tried to school his mind to rational reactions rather than physical or emotional. Non-sexual nudity was, on a whole, more common and reasonable than automatically sexual states of undress. Communal bathing honestly made more sense than it didn’t. Therefore, there was nothing wrong with it, it implied nothing. Remus let go of the braids he was holding, and his fingers stroked along Logan’s scalp for a moment, tracing behind his ear, down his neck, and curling under his chin. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to stop.” Logan’s voice came out strangled, and Remus pulled his hand back, settling back into a kneeling position on the bottom of the tub, no longer touching Logan at any point. He wouldn’t have imagined it earlier that afternoon, but Logan was overheating, almost dizzy from it. He leaned back against the edge again, supporting himself. “I think I may have raised my core temperature too quickly.” 

“I’m going to touch you again.” It was strange, Logan realised, as fingers touched his forehead, and then his wrist, checking his pulse. That the feeling of being touched changed so much, when the difference was so little. “We got a solid maybe Specs. Grab your towel.” 

Logan fumbled and held it against himself as Remus maneuvered him out of the tub and into the outer chamber of the bathhouse. He was dizzy and his head was swimming, but he was slowly coming back to himself. Part of him- the core that still felt a little chilled- missed the warmth of the tub, but he recognized that he’d stayed in too long. Remus was handing him something and he took it expecting his glasses, and receiving a cup of a cool liquid instead. Sipping the fruit juice, he felt the disorientation passing. 

“Got your glasses now.” 

Logan accepted them and put them on, blinking. 

“That was embarrassing,” he said weakly. “I apologize.” 

“That wasn’t embarrassing.” snorted Remus. “Actually passing out and being found later beet red,  _ that’s _ embarrassing. I wouldn’t bathe alone for like a year after that.” he took Logan’s hand, and put his fingers back on his pulse. Logan tried to shake him off. 

“Do you perpetually fuss over people?” he demanded.

“Just the ones dumped into my care.” 

“I’m not in your care!” 

“We’re gonna disagree on that one.” Remus didn’t look impressed. The door rattled, opened, and a group of women came in. They took in the pair of them and started laughing. Remus half turned and saluted them, and Logan realised too late that the duke was completely nude. He felt he should do something, but the only towel he had was over his own lap. Fortunately, giggles aside they were more interested in getting into the baths themselves.

“You have no shame whatsoever.” Logan groaned.

“Yeah, hard pass. It’s kind of a useless concept if you think about it. What good has shame ever done anyone?” He handed Logan a stack of cloth. “Now put your pants on. You’re a big boy, probably perishing from hunger to boot.” His eyes flicked down to the towel covering Logan’s lap. “Very big.” 

“You know.” Logan said thoughtfully, staring at his dish. “These inns are giving me a pleasant feeling of routine.”

“Mfle?” Remus inquired around a mouthful. 

“They all seem to serve the same thing.” 

His dining companion almost choked on his bread. Logan took a bite and chewed for a moment, waiting until Remus had recovered. 

“Is this poor writing?”

“Nah, just simple to cook.” Remus laughed and coughed into his hand, having not expected a second sally. Logan covered his amusement with a sip. Outside the common room, Logan could hear the rush of wind and water that indicated that the rain had set in with enthusiasm. “Give it time. Sometime we’ll have some extra time and get something special.”

“But mostly we’ll be eating stew and bread.”

“I’ve got a sausage if you’d rather?” Remus smirked. 

“Now what would you do if I took you up on that?” Logan demanded. 

“Scream, hopefully.” 

Logan looked away, lips pressed together to avoid laughing or blushing harder than he was. 

“You’re not going to win this contest, my pretty little scholar.” Remus smirked, and knocked their booted feet together. He tilted his head, sliding his leg forward until their knees touched. “Especially now that I know what your lips taste like.” 

Logan looked away, shifting his leg. With the misery of the rain, he’d almost forgotten how their impromptu spar had ended the night before. Remus chortled, and returned to his meal. While the Blue Wells Inn had less of a tavern-like atmosphere than the other places they’d passed, there were still people in the dining hall that appeared to be more interested in having fun than simply eating. There was a table full of people playing some sort of card game that lead to laughter and groans in turn, a few couples with their heads together, talking quietly, a tabletop game along one wall that seemed to be a cross between bowling and pinball, and what was indistinguishable from a dart board as far as Logan could tell. It was a great deal like being in a bar. Well at least no one was trying to pick them up. They could eat and go to bed. That would clear up the last bit of chill, and hopefully keep them from catching ill. Well, him. Remus struck him as the kind of person who was absmaly, constantly healthy. A cold draft crept in through the shuttered window making the lanterns flicker a bit. He shuddered into his mug. 

“Say you two look like some fancy boys.” Someone slung themself onto the end of the bench Logan was sitting on, and he glanced at the miner who’d joined them.

“Thank you?” Logan replied, somewhat confused. It was true that they were certainly looking fancy, their travel clothes being laundered meant that Logan was wearing the second suit from his luggage, and Remus’s second suit was green and black brocade, with puffed sleeves like a storybook prince and winking silver embroidery. While there were other people there who were not dressed in like laborers, he and Remus were certainly the fanciest. 

“Fancy a game? You look like you got money, so we could have fun.”

Logan retracted his thought about not being hit on, then realised this was one of the men who’d been playing darts.

“I presume you mean to make bets?” He tucked a braid behind his ear. 

“Yeah, that’s the one. We got a special game around here that we play with the darts.”

“If you wanna play-” Remus started.

“Go on.” Logan interrupted. “What are the rules then?” Remus looked mildly surprised, but hid it in his drink. At some point on this misadventure, Logan would have to interact with the locals without Remus acting as a buffer. Better to start now, while the duke was at least around as a fall back. 

“Right-o, so three rounds right? After the first round, the loser buys the winner a shot for every ten points he led him. Same for the second. Third round, bet’s a penny a point payout.” 

Logan suspected they were being hustled, as he doubted very much that was the normal wager. He looked over at Remus. 

“Since you’re my keeper, apparently, will our finances survive?” 

Remus snorted. 

“We’re good, Specs. Let’s buy the locals some shots.” 

“What no confidence in your prettymans?” Laughed a woman in a smock and loose pants who’d plopped herself down next to Remus. 

“Oh he’s good at lots of things.” Remus countered. “Just a little under coordinated.” he chuckled, tearing a bite off his bread. “but at least I don’t have to worry about him getting drunk.” 

“You not interested in playing?” Asked the woman. “We could play for kisses if you’d like.” 

“Tempting, but nah. I’ll just watch for now.” 

It was much later that they returned to their room. Logan was leaning slightly, but smugly against Remus’s side. The stairs had been more challenging than he’d expected. The shots had been something that tasted like generic whiskey, and in Logan’s opinion would be better off sterilising things than being drunk. As the consistent winner, he had drunk quite a few of them. After the first game and payout, Logan had used his winnings to buy the loser a drink, and that good sportsmanship had them challenging him to another set. He lost the middle round, but considering how badly he beat them in the last, it was possible that he’d lost on purpose. Remus had just sprawled in a chair from one of the tables with an increasingly bemused expression, nursing a tankard of cider. 

“It’s just hand eye coordination.” Logan explained breathlessly. “Throwing darts doesn’t take much skill if you pay attention.” Despite his list, his words were as clear as they had been sober. “Darts want to fly, even bar darts.” 

“Well if you were trying to impress me, you did it.” Remus said soothingly, patting Logan’s waist where his arm was supporting him. 

“I did?” Logan asked, looking pleased. “Good. I am an adult, you know. I’m very smart.”

“Not smart enough to turn down the third round.” 

“I did fine. I won. I think? Did I win?”

“You won specs.” He manhandled him through the doorway of their room, and onto the bed. Instead of sitting down, Logan lay crosswise on the bed, feet dangling. 

“I think my boots are still wet.” He said mournfully. “They made my socks wet.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Remus was helpfully taking his boots off. That was good. The buttons seemed especially daunting at the moment, and Logan said so. 

“I’m not drunk you know. Just a little tipsy.” he added.

“Whatever you say.” the tone of his voice indicated that he doubted that very much.

Logan stared at the ceiling, then struggled upright to work his jacket open. It was a nice garment and it would be uncomfortable to sleep in anyway, and damp feet aside, getting into bed seemed like the best thing in the world. Remus grunted a few times, and the door opened and closed again. Logan blinked as Remus came back and sat next to him. This room had no windows, and the bed was tucked into a corner. Having removed his jacket and having hung it carefully on the bedpost, he lay back down. 

“Remus.” he said seriously. “There is a footprint on the ceiling.” a garment flew over his head, then Remus flopped down beside him, both in their shirts and pants. 

“Huh. So there is.” He reached up a hand at it. “Just the one. So dark.” He tucked his hands behind his head. “Do you want to know what happened?” 

Logan rolled on his side. 

“Do you know?”

“So-” Remus said without answering the question. “A long time ago, when the mines were first opened, when the town had no name, when the inn was just a common boarding house, and the baths were repurposed horse troughs; a man came through. A merchant with packs full of useful things. He set up shop in the inn for several days. People came by and bought things they needed. As he gathered the money from their pay, he also was sleeping his way through all the prettiest people in town.”

“One at a time?” 

“Mostly.” Remus chuckled. “Well that’s where the problem started, because two people showed up at the same time, and they got jealous. Soon people were comparing notes, and getting angrier and angrier, and no one was angier than the foreman, whose spouse was one of the merchant’s repeat customers. And as more and more came to light, it seemed that his spouse tended to sleep with anyone that caught their fancy. The merchant was set to leave town the next morning, having apologised for causing the strife, and promised not to be such a fuckin’ slut the next time he came by.” 

Without thinking, Logan wormed closer until he was lying right against Remus half leaned on his chest listening to the rumble of his chest, and half looking at the footprint. 

“A disappointment, I’m sure.” 

Remus laughed. “Yeah. Anyhow, the foreman came into the boarding house while people were eating dinner, and went right up the benches, until he was behind the merchant. Then without saying anything, he slit the merchant’s throat. Squick! There was screaming and there was shouting, but the foreman wasn’t done, and he went after another person who’d slept with his spouse. People scattered, trying to get away, trying to hide, trying to find a weapon to fight back, and the foreman killed five more people before someone hit him with a bench. Blood absolutely drenched the floorboards. Later it turned out he’d killed his spouse before coming into the boarding house. He was hanged for the murders, and everything was cleaned up. Except the floorboards never quite recovered, and the boarding house lost business from it. Eventually it closed, and someone else bought it, and took it apart, using the boards to build the new inn. And that, specs, is why there’s a footprint on the ceiling. That’s a footprint from the foreman chasing down another person who’d slept with his spouse. They put the boards upside down to hide it, but the blood is still there.” 

“Well then.” Logan blinked a few times. “How do you know this story?”

Remus laughed. 

“I don’t, I made the whole thing up. Where would I have heard that?”

Logan shot up offended, and smacked Remus across the stomach which only made him laugh harder. 

“How dare you.” 

“Aw, c’mon, it was a good story. Give me credit for that, at least!” 

Suddenly Logan found it absurd and collapsed on Remus’s chest, laughing. His body was warm, and pleasant. Arms cradled him, holding him in place and he tipped his face up, digging his chin into the other man’s collarbone. 

“You took advantage of my naivety.” 

“Poor baby.” smirked Remus. “Be glad that’s all I’m taking advantage of.” 

Logan scoffed. 

“I’ll have to do it myself.” it made sense, somehow to kiss Remus then, cuddled against him, warm and loose. There was a stalled moment of surprise and then he was being kissed back. They were kissing each other, warm and sloppy. Lips and tongues and hands in hair. Without breaking more than a breath they shifted to lie completely on the mattress. Logan found himself on his back, hand up under Remus’s shirt, the other in his hair, pressing closer, as he felt the brush of tongue and teeth on his throat. His legs tightened around the duke’s hips, and Remus mumbled something unintelligible against his skin, biting gently, then slightly harder. Logan pulled at his hair, pulling him up, and they kissed again. Breathless Logan blinked very slowly, looking up into Remus’s eyes.

“Oh dear.” he mumbled. “Remus.”

“Mnn?” He was about to lower his mouth to kiss Logan again, but Logan's next words got to his lips first. 

“I think I’m drunk.” 

Remus groaned face dropping down to the exposed collar bone where Logan’s shirt had been pulled open, gaping to show the line of his collarbone. 

“Yeah, Lo. I think you are.” 

Logan rubbed his hand up Remus’s spine where it lay. The frenetic tension of the heated necking faded away, slowly ebbing. With the passion cooling, they pulled apart, Remus laying face first on the bed, lying between Logan and the door. 

“I feel like I’ve done something wrong.” Logan blinked a few times. “Am I a tease?”

“Gods, no, that’s just bullshit like blue balls to make people feel guilty. We just got a little ahead of ourselves. I’m gonna teach you to throw knives.” Remus flapped a hand in the air but didn’t move. “It’s going to be sick.”

“You’re changing the subject.” Logan’s head felt fuzzy, he was sleepy, and frankly, now that he no longer had Remus on top of him, the room was a little chilly. At least they couldn’t hear the wind from their inside room.

“And you’re going to regret hustling those miners in the morning, so…” 

“I didn’t  _ hustle  _ them.” Logan grumbled petulantly. “I just took advantage of their assumption that I was useless. An assumption you helped with, I might add.” 

Remus snorted into the pillow and finally sat up, dragging the blanket over both of them and blowing out the candles that lit the room. Logan leaned past him to put his glasses on the table. 

After several quiet minutes, Logan felt he should say something.

“I liked kissing you.”

“I could tell, specs.” 

“Do you actually like me or are you just lonely?” 

“Fishing for compliments?” Remus threw an arm over Logan’s waist. “Shh. Sleep. You’re a smart guy. You should know.” 

“That is a terrible answer.” grumbled Logan settling more comfortably in bed. “That’s what people say when they don’t want to answer and want you to somehow conjure the answer from nothing. Why can’t people just say what they’re thinking? Is ‘you should know’ some sort of unholy code that I missed the translation to?” Logan’s rant against the injustice of social expectations and the apparent necessity of mind reading was stilled by the brush of lips and the bristle of a mustache against the side of his mouth.

“You’re likeable, Lo. Get some sleep.”

“Falsehood.” Mumbled Logan, but let himself relax anyway. He was warm, he was safe, and now that he was horistonal and his mind was unoccupied, the drunkenness was dragging him down into sleep. 

The forest was sunlit and temperate. Logan was walking, watching the way the light broke through the leaves. The ground under his feet was soft. He looked down at his feet, seeing his favorite shoes from home, and plain blue jeans. Ah. It made sense now. It had been a dream. He’d known it all along. It was ridiculous to think of himself on an adventure like that. The light danced among dust mites in the air. 

Still…

If it was a dream, why was he in the woods? He hardly would have chosen this as a destination. The only reason he would be in the woods was if the dream had been real. Besides- Remus had said he needed Logan to get free. 

Logan turned around, and collided with someone’s chest. Cool, long fingered hands cupped his face. 

“You will always remember what you wanted with me-” Purred an enchanting voice that did things to Logan’s spine. A hand ghosted down his neck, down his arm, clasping his hand, and he didn’t move. Instead he stared up into eyes like the night sky, and got caught up in them, in the twinkles that seemed to go on forever. The other hand left his face, and fell to the small of his back, crushing him tighter against the incredibly tall beautiful person, as they began to spin. Music started up from nowhere, tingling and echoing like tinnitus. “Everything else will turn to dust, foolish darkling. Foolish, beautiful darkling who thought to escape.” The world spun around them. “Are you a man or a dog?” Lips brushed his ear. “Does it matter?” 

The forest was no longer sunlit, the only light came from the stars in the eyes that he couldn’t look away from as they spun and spun away into eternity. And Logan didn’t care. 

What did he have to go home to?

When he opened his eyes, the world was dark, and his eyes felt wet. He scrubbed at them with the back of his hand. Why would he have been crying in his sleep? Outside the room, people were moving, boots banging, doors slamming. Had that been what woke him up? Logan sat up, then lay back down as nausea overtook him, head suddenly pounding from the noise. How many shots had he taken last night during that ridiculous game? He needed water. Which meant he had to stand up. He attempted to roll out of bed, and instead found himself on top of a warm body, which reacted immediately by wrapping arms around him.

“Nnnuu.” Mumbled the body.

“I will throw up if you don’t let go of me.”

“Haven’t heard that one in a while.” grumbled his companion, and let Logan go to slither to the cold wooden floor. With a bit of effort, he managed to get himself sitting up against the bed, but no closer to the saddlebags where he remembered there was a canteen. He covered his face with his hands. 

“Why did you let me do that?” he groaned. Remus laughed, in possibly the most unkind manner Logan had heard him laugh yet.

“Hey, I’m not your keeper, right?” He stretched, and got out of bed. “You’re a grown-ass man, and you won, didn’t you?” 

“I may throw up anyway.” whimpered Logan. “I get your point.” 

“It could have been worse.” Remus’s footfalls were much quieter than the people going past their room, but Logan didn’t look up. “D’ya know what applejack is?” 

“It’s some sort of distilled liquor? It involves apples?”

“Mainly apples.” Something tapped against the outside of his arm, and Logan saw the canteen being held out. Taking it he took a few careful sips. Thankfully it settled his stomach, with that faint taste of ginger lingering in the water. As he continued drinking slowly, Remus opened the door, and brought two bundles as well as their boots. 

“Why were our boots outside the door?” 

“Getting cleaned?” Remus asked, setting the bundles on the bed. “Same as our laundry.”

“Right.” Logan concentrated on drinking, and was interrupted by Remus hauling him up by the arm. 

“For the love of inertia, please do not.” Logan clutched at him, one hand over his mouth. 

“Well, I got clean clothes if you do.” Remus said cheerfully enough. A bundle of clothing was shoved into Logan’s arms, and he clutched it pathetically. “Come along.” 

Remus took him to the bathouses’s entry room, which had basins and mirrors for washing. Setting down the bundle of clothing, Logan attempted to focus on getting clean. Cleaning his mouth with hot water was a good start. Rubbing his face and neck clean was even better, and he started to feel like a human being again. Leaning forward he peered into the mirror inspecting his chin and neck. If he didn’t want to grow a beard, he would have to do something soon, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the other hand, he knew exactly how he felt about facial hair. Glancing over he saw Remus holding a straight razor, and carefully scraping his face clear, gliding carefully around the mustache. Without thinking, Logan touched his own face, remembering the kisses of the night before, and the scrape of whiskers against his face. Noticing his audience, Remus waved the hand with the razor in it back and forth in front of Logan’s face.

“You okay there?” 

He jerked back a bit, despite the fact it was clear the razor was under control. 

“I was merely observing.” He said, looking at the small bag of cleaning supplies spread in front of him. He didn’t have a razor. He was also certain he wouldn’t know how to use it safely, but it looked simple enough when Remus did it. Raising his eyebrows, Remus looked back into the mirror critically. 

“Should I go beard? I don’t like it much, but-” he stroked a thumb over his chin. 

“I’m not a fan of beards, myself.” Logan offered. 

“Huh.” Finishing, he wiped the razor off, and raised his eyebrows at Logan. “You have no idea how to shave, do you?”

“I have never attempted to shave with a razor like that.” Logan defended himself. 

“Have a seat.” Remus hooked a stool over. “Take your shirt off.” 

“Uh I’m not sure-” 

“It’s cool. I’ve shaved other guys before. C’mon.” 

Logan’s distaste for facial hair warred with his nervousness, and he jerked his shirt over his head, folding it up, and sat down where Remus indicated. 

“Take off everything?”

“I’d like to keep my nose.” Logan retorted dryly and Remus laughed. 

“Glad you’re feeling better.” He patted lather onto Logan’s face and tipped his head to the side. “Just stay calm, you’ll be fine. You sleep okay?”

Logan made vague noise without moving his face. 

“Dreams?” he flicked the razor clean, and Logan took a moment to answer. 

“The first vaguely coherent ones I’ve had since arriving.” he admitted, going silent as Remus tipped his face again to get the other side. “But not pleasant, I don’t think. Of course.” he was silent as the metal negotiated the underside of his chin, he didn’t even breathe. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Remus at this point, so much as he wasn’t sure how much movement would be too much. Remus was holding his skin taut as he worked. “I’m not sure how much the discomfort was the dreams or the hangover when I woke.” 

Remus chortled, dragging a testing thumb over a shaved portion, and slid the razor under his nose, prompting Logan to hold his breath again. 

“You’re lucky you know, this is a ton easier than scraping the bristly shit away with a dagger.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a good time, no.” He let Remus move his face back and forth.

“There you go, handsome as fuck.” he wiped the razor off again, and twirled it into a closed position. “Some other time I’ll teach you how to do it. Maybe as a reward if you can learn to throw daggers.”

“I may have to grow a beard.” Logan said dismally, standing up again, and washing his face a second time to remove any residue of soap. Changing his clothing, he ran his fingers over the toiletries. “Do you know what this is?” he asked Remus, showing the small bottle of oil. 

“Well, it’s either lube, or it’s for your hair.” 

“That’s quite the range.”

“It’s scented oil. It’s a pretty vague object. Hell, it could just be a novel way to be perfume. Lots of perfumes come in oil form.” He rubbed the bit he’d tipped onto his fingers, and sniffed it again. “Mugent?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s a scent. Like lily of the valley. Can’t make perfume out of lily of the valley.” Remus added. “The fairy bells resist it, they rot when you try to press an oil out of it. So you have to distill it differently.” He went to smooth the oil in his mustache, thought better of it, and rubbed it on his pants instead. “It’s not thick enough to be just the perfume tho. So it’s probably for your hair. It’s not lotion-y enough for lube, and it’s better to use a pure oil like almond or olive for that.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“No worries.” Remus flashed a grin at him, tying his hair up. They headed back to the room, and folded the now clean clothes back into the saddlebags, Logan continuing to drink from the canteen to ease off the remaining headache from his hangover. 

“Remus?” he said finally. “If it’s still raining… do we have to keep going? Today, I mean. Can we wait the rain out here?”

“I thought you wanted to get home.”

“I also don’t want to die of exposure.” Logan grumped. “This inn is pleasant, and the baths…” 

“And it’s not at all because you’re hungover.” Remus teased. 

“I would be fine to proceed as long as I don’t have to do it in day long wet.” Logan retorted scathingly. Remus tittered deep in his chest. 

“Sure.” 

The shutters were open with morning light pouring in, so it appeared the storm had passed in the night. The dining hall was mostly empty, the borders having already moved on to their jobs, leaving space for travelers to eat in peace. Logan was somewhat gratified with the presence of identifiable breakfast food, french toast, and frankly repellently strong coffee that no amount of the sweetening syrup available made more than palatable. It certainly chased the last of the hangover away. Remus ate at an alarming rate before leaving Logan to finish while he chatted with the innkeeper. 

“Hey, my pretty nerd.” Remus said pleasantly, as Logan came up to join them. “Looks like you don’t get a break. The weather is supposed to be clear for the next few days. We should get going.” 

The innkeeper gave a good natured shrug. “I’ll have the food you wanted wrapped up by the time you get your geldings saddled. Got a flask?” Logan turned the now empty flask over. “Coffee or tisane?” 

Terrified at the idea of that coffee cold, Logan answered the latter without mentaly translating what it was. He had remembered that a tisaine was a sort of steeped herbal drink, possibly even what had been in it before by the time they were in the stable. 

Logan remembered how the harnesses went on with minimal prompting, prompting a pleased grunt from Remus as he made small corrections. While what he was learning was never going to be useful once this was over, Logan couldn’t help but be pleased with himself. 

“While there is a blacksmith in town, we’re going to keep going to find some proper weapons.” Remus told him. “They don’t like to have weapons in mining towns because miners can get real spicy when things get dull, and knife throwing is easier with ones meant for it.” 

“Understandable. I still am unsure why you have a sudden infatuation with teaching me to throw knives.” 

“It’s like you said, hand-eye coordination.” He grinned over Samson’s back. “Also, it would be hot as fuck.”

Logan snorted. 

“Then by all means let us get on the road to hasten my impending sepsis of the fingers as I fail miserably at martial endeavors.”

“There’s the spirit!” 

Mid afternoon, Logan remembered the third book. He supposed it said wonders for his increased confidence that he reached into the satchel and drew it out. It wasn’t as if his hold on the reins was doing much in particular, though Phillip flipped an ear back at him as they got looped about the saddle horn in favor of the book. Remus wasn’t paying much attention either, staring at the clouds and humming to himself as he often did. Every now and again he would stop singing to argue with himself under his breath, but Logan never managed to work out what he was saying, so in the end he’d given up. 

Half paying attention to make sure that Phillip didn’t just stop to graze by the side of the road- despite the fact they’d broken for over an hour to allow the horses to do that not long ago- Logan looked the book over. It didn’t seem to have a title on the outside. It was thinner and smaller than the other volumes, and bound in dark blue leather. It reminded him of a journal, opening it, he discovered that it was. 

A journal in his handwriting. 

He gave a physical jolt, making Phillip snort and toss his head. Logan found himself apologising to a horse without meaning to. This was his life now. Wonderful. 

He opened the journal again, glaring at the page as if it would change what he’d seen. It didn’t. The letters were shaped slightly differently than his usual writing, but he identified that as having been written with a fountain pen. He hadn’t used one since college, the pen having been a graduation gift from his father, and stolen by a boyfriend on his way out. Perhaps if he searched his… inventory, he supposed, he would locate one, with the same slightly bluish black ink. 

It was eerie staring at words that he hadn’t written in his handwriting. Shaking the feeling off, Logan told himself it was no different than someone having made a font from his writing and printed a book in that. It did give him the odd sensation that he had replaced someone by coming here. 

But no, Remus has said that ‘story’ was getting created around him. This journal was the equivalent of knowing that his Uncle (Which he didn’t have) had always been a priest during a dream. 

So- who did this world think he was? The first page was eerily like a normal journal, name, address. Logan Teach. Fire Mountain Lodge. Son of Algernon Teach, former Count of Green Moor Ride. That was interesting. He’d have to check the other book about. He flipped through most of the entries; commentary on food, weather, health, lists of books read, day to day inanities, until he reached the last few entries. And now he was reading about plans being made. He was to go to Green Moor Ride, and marry the child of the current Count. The writer had dryly commented that he got ‘a free choice of any of them’, which meant one had been picked out for him and he should choose them. He had hopes that he would be able to continue his studies into the natural sciences and philosophy once things were settled, despite the wholesale disruption of his life. The last entry mentioned that an escort had arrived, but not really any information about the escort except that he was ‘insufferable’.

“Apparently,” Logan said, getting Remus’s attention “You’re insufferable.”

“Are you just figuring this out?” He smirked. 

“As it happens, while you’re extreme and ridiculous at times, I wouldn’t use that word.” He tried urging Phillip forward, and when that didn’t work, he picked up the reins and tried again, this time succeeding in drawing even with Remus. “I may have found some clues to the narrative. The third book is a journal. If I had a pen, I might continue it, but I have always disliked writing important things in pencil.” He paused. “I have to admit that I’m somewhat concerned that you’re supposed to be escorting me when neither of us actually know where we’re going.” Remus reached his hand out and took the book, skimming through it. Logan felt a spike of discomfort, as he might if someone was actually reading a personal journal but he pushed it down. 

“Isn’t it weird?” Remus commented. “That the Rides aren’t marked on the map?” 

“Pardon?”

“That was the map on the wall, that means it got referred to a lot. The Rides weren’t on it. It was entirely a topographical map.”

“It had the roads on it. The trade ones-”

“But not the Rides; you’d think that's how taxes would be organized, so a map with the trade routes would need that, wouldn’t it?”

“Why do you know so much about this sort of thing?”

“Uh? Duke?” He gestured at himself “If everything goes well, I won’t just be hitting people over the head for the rest of my life. Though that  _ does  _ sound fun. I’ll probably keep it as a hobby.” Remus devolved into a description of the differences between blunt force and cuts trauma, and the benefits of each for sheer stopping power. Logan was morbidly fascinated that anyone knew that much about that, and just listened. 

They passed through three more towns most of which were on the smaller side, and centered around one craft or another. Remus had a fine time in the orchard town that specialized in wine, but Logan avoided anything stronger than ale, not wanting to repeat the hangover. His dreams were exhausting enough. They’d also slept out again, this time without even the shed-like shelter of the way station. The town they were approaching now was bigger. Much bigger. Logan might even call it a city. Several roads met up outside it. The most traffic he’d gotten used to was occasional courier riders going past, and a few hay wagons. 

“Oh wonderful. There’s no way that big stone building isn’t a church of some sort.” Logan groaned. 

“Not a fan of organized religion?” Remus teased. 

“I attempt not to have an opinion on it one way or the other. For some people it’s positive, but for the most part it seems to be more of a bludgeon.” 

“Well don’t worry, there’s tons of things to do in this town without that. Shopping- we’ll be able to get what we’re missing for sure. That’s the kind of town that has daily markets and permanent shops. That’s a trade town. Look, you can see docks on the river.” he pointed past the city itself to the river on the other side. Nodding, Logan could even make out a stone bridge that crossed the river, and a smaller group of buildings on the other side. The city appeared to be built on two levels, half of it being slightly higher than the other, as though it had been built on high ground and then spilled downward. But that’s not what caught his attention. 

“Remus there’s a gate.” Logan said a little nervously “Why is there a gate with armed men that we have to pass to go into the city?” 

“S’just the malita? You know, the town watch?” Remus said uncertainty. “They’re not even searching people.” They were close enough to the gate that there was starting to be traffic- people with hand and dog carts, people carrying packs, even a few more people leading horses. 

“This is normal?” demanded Logan. Remus paused in dismounting, and stared at him. 

“It’s not… it…” he stared at the malita, who for the most part were just smiling, and asking for names and business in the town. “I’d gotten used to it.”

“It’s like this in Sanders?” Logan pressed, sliding down next to him. 

“...is there something wrong with it?”

“Why do they need to know?” Logan demanded. Remus just blinked, staring into the distance, lips moving but not making a sound, the line between his eyebrows getting deeper as he thought. “It’s like this for every large town?”

“... it didn’t used to be,” he said quietly. “When did it change?” 

Regardless of how Logan felt about it, they joined the queue. A few people had a badge of some sort that passed them by it, but most of the traffic went by the side of the gate where a pair wearing tabards and weapons waited. 

Despite himself Logan got more and more worried; what was he supposed to say? They didn’t have a purpose in the city, and ‘just passing through’ sounded ridiculous to his own ears. Remus who seemed to have some familiarity with this sort of thing was deep in thought. Shit, they were next. 

“Afternoon and welcome to the Seat of Lockbridge.” said the guard with the book. “Can I get your names and business here?”

“Remus Ulf and Logan Teach.” Remus said before Logan could speak up. “We’re traveling and need a spot of resupply.” 

“Very good where are you traveling to?” The one with the ledger didn’t look up for more a moment but the other guard gave them an appraising look. He looked directly at Logan and quirked an eyebrow. Nervously, Logan smiled and nodded. 

“Green Moor Ride.” 

“The seat, then?”

“Yes.” Remus answered without a flicker of delay. 

“Whoof, that’s a trip.” grunted the other guard. “Try to give the same answers on exit, and have a good day.” He waved them past. “No horse riding on city streets.” 

“Sure thing.” Remus stepped forward without hesitation, and Logan followed, turning as they got out of range to watch another group getting stopped. 

“It still makes me nervous.” he grumbled. 

“Not much police presence where you are?”

Logan made a face. “Enough so their presence makes me nervous.”

“Good.” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“People who say shit like ‘innocent people have nothing to fear from the watch’ are full of it. Better to stay wary.” 

“But you were-”

“Not thinking.” Remus growled. 

“You can get used to anything.” Logan said quietly. It was plain that Remus was upset with himself. 

“Doesn’t mean you should.” 

“You’re not wrong but…”

The road they were walking on was fairly broad, and curved slightly as it cut through the town, it was clearly the main route, other streets branching off at regular intervals. It had more people in one place than Logan had seen since he arrived, and it was somewhat unnerving. And It was loud; he didn’t expect it to be loud without the sounds of machinery and cars, but the people more than made up for it, calling out, conversing, swearing. He stuck close to Remus, watching the buildings and people. They passed the large stone building he’d seen from the road. It still looked like a church to him. Even more so close up.

Turning from the main road they got closer to the bridge, and Remus turned into the courtyard of an inn. Everything was smaller and closer together, but familiar somehow. Before long, they were in a very small room with a bed and no other furnishings. It did, however, have a locking door. Remus rolled the mattress and blankets up, looking them over, and leaving the bare box slats beneath. He hissed a few venomous sounding syllables that Logan didn’t catch and narrowed his eyes as they watered. 

“So this place is just lodging, no food, we’ll have to eat while we’re out.” he sat on the exposed slats. “So add that to the shopping list.” 

Without thinking, Logan produced the mechanical pencil and the journal book, turning it upside down and backwards and flipping to a blank page; to his amusement, the absolute back page had a list in a similar fashion. It was bizzare to think about; but it was his journal.

“Okay, actual list then.” Remus sounded amused. “We’re gonna need some travel food; some feed for the horses, coffee. You want another blanket? You looked cold last night.” 

That was the night they’d slept out. Logan had woken up with his head and torso in Remus’s lap, Remus sitting up with his back against the tree they were sleeping under. In retrospect, Logan wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Remus had slept properly. 

“I should be fine.” Logan dismissed it. “The season is heading towards summer, isn’t it?” 

“If you say so. At least one knife suitable for throwing, a proper weapon for me, some undergarments that we can guarantee no one has worn for you;” he said that in a teasing tone, having found Logan’s rant about hygiene hilarious. Clearly Remus thought used clothes were clothes and fine as long as they’d been washed, no matter what layer they were. Logan’s skin just prickled at the idea of wearing underclothes someone else had worn. 

Logan flushed, and refused to back down, jotting that down. 

“No weapon for me?”

“Specs, let’s be honest, I could probably teach you enough about knife fighting to keep you alive; but weapon training is work. It takes years.” 

“Still, if it came up, wouldn’t it be better that I had more than a glorified dart set and an eating knife.”

“Tell you what.” Remus leaned over and flicked the end of his nose. “If you find a knife you really like, you can have it. But I think you’d rather have a pen.” 

“Is this an either or situation?” He asked, rubbing his nose. “We should also look for another map; or at least see if there’s one we can look at. I would like to know the shape of the Rides. At this point, we don’t even know how many we’ll be crossing.” He frowned, and adjusted his glasses. “I was wondering, why did you give the name ‘Ulf’?” 

“Habit. Can’t exactly give ‘Sanders’ as a last name when I’m a wanted man. Ulf was the name of my mom’s family.” he scratched his stomach idly, leaning back against the still rolled mattress. Logan tried to gauge if the patch of white hairs was noticeably bigger. He tapped the pencil against paper as he thought. 

“Should we look for a bath house? I mean, I presume there would be one in a city this size.” 

“We  _ can _ , but I am totally warning you now- it’s fifty/fifty that any one we find or are directed to as travelers is gonna be a whore house.” he stretched out, boots coming back to the floor. “I mean, if you’re cool with that, that’s cool.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Logan said tightly, and was somewhat surprised how little that bothered him. Not that he’d be interested in pursuing said services- that sounded like a recipe for disaster, given the setting. “We should probably try to avoid that.”

“ _ Or _ we could have a fun night out.” 

Logan put the journal back in his haversack and didn’t respond. 

Logan hadn’t thought that he would get unused to being around people in so short a time,but he was. While this was the biggest town he had been in since he was pulled into the tangle trap, it was smaller than any city he’d ever lived in. The owner of the inn had given them directions to the market district. After the first few times he almost got lost by pausing and looking into the open fronts of shops, Remus took ahold of his hand, and didn’t let go. 

“But that one had weapons-” Logan protested. “And you said you were looking;”

“Yeah, but I’m not buying from a weapon shop.” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“They log who buys things, and they pull out flawed stuff for people who they don’t think will come back to complain.”

“That’s a cynical outlook, don’t you think?” 

“It hurts when a sword breaks in your hand.” Remus retorted. “I get that you’ve never had a cheap saber snap on you, but it’s quite the experience. Not to mention you’re then down a fucking weapon.” he shook his head. “No, I know exactly what I’m looking for. It’s bound to exist.” His search had them wiggling all over the city. There was a brief stop where they did get Logan brand new smallclothes, and a scarf, at Remus’s insistence. It was getting dark, and Logan was getting increasingly nervous, when Remus finally found what he was looking for, dragging Logan into what looked virtually identical- to Logan at least- to any of the pawn shops they’d been past other places, just a trifle more organized. There was clothing, weapons, jewelry, all manner of things, without any immediately identifiable pattern. It reminded him a bit of a thrift shop, though with far fewer books than he was used to.

“I don't get it.” Logan said at last, as Remus looked at knives. “What sort of shop is this?” 

The shopkeeper overheard him and laughed. 

“Slumming a bit?” he asked. 

“I- ah- this is the first time I’ve been in a city.” he lied. 

“Oh then you wouldn’t know, would you? When a fellow gets arrested, they get their belongings taken, right? And if they get sold, or executed, or they’d been up to mischief and they’re imprisoned, they don’t get ‘em back. This is a back-lot shop. I buy lots o’ the stuff when the Watch wants to clear out the rooms. I also get’em from estates when folk die, and sometimes even from old shops that close. Lockbridge Seat is got a good flow through. Get all types of stuff.” 

“Look at this!” Remus brandished a weapon and Logan leaned back from it. “You don’t see a lot of these!” 

“I can’t imagine why.” Logan said dryly. “It’s a metal ball on a stick. A spiked metal ball. A thousand and one uses, I should imagine.” 

“Oh no, mostly just the one.” He flipped it in the air, caught it and then turned it around to offer the handle to Logan, who took it. He was surprised at the weight. “Maces are for concussive damage. Swords won’t always get through armor, but a mace’ll do similar damage if it’s against leather or plate. Spiked ones like this are also great for ruining armor.” 

“Charming.” Logan passed it back. 

“Course, most people look at it and see a fancy club.” 

“Mercenary?” asked the shopkeeper. 

“I am a respectable bodyguard.” Remus grinned. 

“Right.” 

“C’mere Specs, we’re going to look at daggers.” Remus took Logan’s sleeve and tugged him over to the display case. “Now, you can learn to throw any knife.” he said, with a vaguely lecturing tone. “It’s all in findin’ where the balance is. Knives like this, they’re designed to be thrown, so they have a set balance for the shape. But if people see them, they know what they’re for.” 

“What about those-” Logan pointed at objects in the same drawer, bladed disks like snowflakes or stars. “Throwing stars aren’t they? They look smaller, and wouldn’t the shape make their balance more central?”

“They are super cool, but to be honest? They’re harder to throw than a knife.” 

“Really?"

“And there is literally nothing else they can be.” He picked one up, a small one with eight points, and Logan watched in admiration as he walked it through his fingers like a coin. 

“It seems that doesn’t stop you.”

Remus took a bow, and winked. “I’m multi talented.”

“And I’m up for a challenge.” He picked up one of the larger stars and turned it back and forth. The symmetry appealed to him. 

“That’s a good one. If you put your fingers here and here, and punch, you can get someone good.” Remus positioned Logan’s hand on the weapon, and gestured. “Or slash with it. Okay Specs, you’ve sold me.” 

“How nice.” Logan said a little weakly, and jumped slightly as Remus kissed him next to his ear. 

“Check out the display near the counter, I’ll be right there.” He nudged Logan gently, and Logan did as requested, fuming slightly as Remus inspected a sword slightly larger than a machete. Just when he thought he’d forgotten about the whole… thing, it got dragged back up to the front of his mind. If he didn’t know better, he would swear Remus was doing it on purpose to keep him off balance. However, the display near the owner’s perch at the counter was very interesting. It contained small things that were neither weapons nor jewelry. Small scissors, a sewing kit in a hinged seashell, a bowl of assorted dice, playing cards, what he identified as a lighter, two unwound watches, one more decorative than the other, and more relevantly, pens. The highly ornamented dip pens didn’t intrest him, even the set that came in a little leather carrying case, but there were three fountain style pens. He examined them all, and picked out the one that seemed to be in the best shape, cap intact and reservoir clean. It had a case like the one dip pen, with a small cloth and bottle of ink. 

“Find what you were looking for?” Remus asked. “These shops are great. Just a step up from a basic pawny.” He set his finds on the counter with a clatter. 

“You’re getting the mace?” Logan asked, adding the pen to the mix. “I would think a sword would be better, for intimidation if nothing else.” 

“Swords are impressive and all, but maces mean business.” Remus retorted. “I’m not interested in scaring people, I’m interested in  _ stopping  _ people.” he grinned cheekily. “‘Sides, this kind is called a morningstar. So matchy-matchy.” 

Logan laughed. 

“As long as you have a good reason.” 

“It’s a great reason!” 

They returned to the inn after that to drop off their purchases. Remus was convinced they could get travel food and feed for the horses on the way out of town the next day. As they entered the innkeeper looked up nervously. 

“It’s you- thank the Tazzlewyrm. You’re Logan Teach right? The heir of Fire Mountain Lodge?” 

Logan looked very confused. Remus nudged him and nodded. 

“Yes?”

“The Count sent an invitation for you to join them for dinner.” he flapped a folded piece of paper at him. 

“Why would he do that?” Logan asked. 

“I don’t know!” the innkeeper snapped. “I didn’t realise you were ranked!” 

“Ah.” Logan’s teeth clacked and he pushed his glasses up. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.” He looked over to Remus, “Can we decline?” 

“Prolly not.” Remus said after a long moment. “And hey! Free food!” Logan took the note, and read it with a grimace. 

“Do you remember the last bell?” he asked. “This says they’ll come to collect me at sevenbell.”

“Last one was six.” the innkeeper said nervously. He glanced at them again, and the bundle under Logan’s arm, and the weapon now tucked casually into Remus’s belt. He was plainly reassessing them. 

“You haven’t told anyone about your fancy guest have you?” Remus smiled in a way that might have been called sweet, if it weren’t so sharp. 

“No sir! Just held the message for you!” 

“Good man.” Remus patted the counter next to the innkeeper’s hand, leaving a coin. “Let’s get pretty for our dinner date, honeytrap.” 

Logan was a little annoyed because with this added complication, they weren’t even going to have time to find a bathhouse, which had been his after dinner plans. 

“It’ll be fine.” Remus assured him. “Just stay calm. This may help us.” 

Logan cleaned his glasses slowly. 

“I need you to stop me from getting drunk, if necessary.” 

“Is that a danger?”

“I’m nervous, and I don’t think I’m a good judge of the level of alcohol in things here. I don’t wish to be drunk in an uncomfortable situation.” 

“Aw, but you’re cuddly when you’re drunk.” Remus was actually fastening the front of his jacket properly. Logan sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“That’s not the point.”

“I think it’s a great point.” 

“You would. Fine.” Logan smoothed his fingers through his hair, checking the braids, and feeling his roots. Perhaps he’d use some of that perfumed oil, since they wouldn’t be able to bathe. “If I promise to be a little ‘cuddly’ anyway, will you help me with this?” 

Remus chuckled, and adjusted the collar of Logan’s shirt. He sighed, wondering why he never got it to sit right on his own. Remus’s bizzare red eyes stared into his, and he tickled him under the chin.

“Never said I wouldn’t. But I’ll take that promise.” he grinned. 

Logan pressed his lips together and suppressed a growl of irritation. Remus only laughed.

Logan had been concerned that armed men, like those who’d been watching the gate would be the ones to come for them. Instead, two men in servants' livery appeared just before the next bell. Confirming Logan’s supposed identity, they only barely looked askance at Remus’s presence at his elbow. There was a pause, as though they were waiting for something, then they nodded slightly, and led them away. 

The servants were very neatly turned out in beige and slate, and Logan was glad that they’d changed into the fancier clothing. He had been tempted to not, just to try and point out that he hadn’t been expecting an invitation to dinner, but Remus had insisted, telling him that if he wanted to he could be blunt and rude about it. Given how Remus, walking beside him, was scratching his nose in a manner just short of picking, Logan wondered if that was how he was going to play it. They were led up river, away from the main bridge, passing by the large church-like building, then taking ramps and stairs to the higher ground that overlooked the main city. The houses here were much nicer, made of stone and carved wood, though if he looked, they also looked older. The bones of the architecture looked somehow more sturdy, as though they’d been built around a more solid and less fanciful home. Going by the signs, there were still merchants here, but they looked equally as fancy. 

“Upscale quarter.” Remus grunted beside him. “People with old money.” 

Logan nodded but didn’t respond, but started looking for the biggest and most impressive looking house. 

He wasn’t disappointed- the house they approached had its own gated yard, and was built partially over the river. From the higher floors, the owner would be able to see the whole of the city. There was a waterfall, a mill below that, and on the other side of the river, a strange box built of stone that Logan eventually recognised as a lock, a device for bringing boats from one level of a river to another. Even though the sun was setting, there were still people manning the lock, lanterns illuminating it. One of the servants peeled off as they entered the courtyard, while the other led them through an arcade lined with deep window boxes, thick with crawling rose vines that crept up the supporting columns. They came out onto a stone deck that extended out over the river. There was the faint roar of the falls, just barely audible. A table was set and waiting beneath lamps that dotted the balustrade, but no one was there. 

“If you would wait here, please, the Count will be out in just a few moments.” the servant said, with a bob of their head like a shallow bow. 

“Ah, thank you.” Logan responded. When the servant disappeared inside, Remus wandered over to the railing, and hopped up onto it, swinging his feet to the far side.

“Be careful!” Logan yelped, grabbing a hold of the man’s sleeve. 

“It’s fine, this is a nice broad railing.” 

“If you fall into the river and drown, I will have no recourse but to fling myself after you.” Logan grumbled. “So please do not.” Remus laughed, rocking back and forth, and straddled the railing instead. 

“That’s sweet.” He patted Logan’s cheek, then his head jerked to the side, and he hopped down. 

The Count had arrived. The Count, to Logan’s surprise was a woman, in her late middle age, her thick, wavy black hair peppered with white, giving the overall sweep a gray appearance. She wore an overrobe that looked similar to the jackets they wore, only the ends trailed into a long skirt that swept the ground behind her, split in the front to reveal breaches, embroidered stockings, and polished low boots with matching embroidery. She didn’t seem to wear any kind of crown or circlet but there was a large broach with a cabochon gem easily two inches across in it, framed in complicated metalwork. She also wore a ring with a matching cabochon on her middle finger. Behind her was a well-dressed gentleman with darker skin of about the same age, and a younger pair, who looked related to them. 

Not sure what the etiquette was, Logan attempted a polite shallow bow, one arm tucked behind his back, which Remus mirrored, so if he was wrong, at least he was wrong in company. 

She bowed similarly, though not as deeply. 

“I am Dainell the Count of Lockbridge Ride. Welcome, Logan of Fire Mountain Lodge and Green Moor Ride.” 

“Thank you for your invitation.” Logan said a little stiffly. She was looking Remus over, and he smiled charmingly back at her. 

“And this is?”

“This is my escort.” Logan said, confused. “Remus.” Surely she knew that if she’d sent an invitation.

“I see.” She smiled, eyes sparkling. 

“A pleasure.” Remus put in. 

“This is my husband, Neial, my heir Terri and my son Ethan. Now then, please,” she swept her hand at the table as a series of servants appeared, bearing dishes. “Let’s be seated.”

The strange hiccup of Remus aside, there was a place set at the table for him beside Logan. The first thing that was brought out were bowls of lightly scented water to wash hands in, and Logan managed, barely to do so without splashing the servant holding it too much. To his delight- which he restrained, there were utensils at each setting, including a fork. He did however, keep an eye on Remus, as they were served soup and what was definitely wine in blown glass goblets. 

“I had hoped you might stay with us while you were in the Seat.” Dainell said. “I don’t know how much traveling you have done.” 

“It would be silly to withdraw from our lodgings when we’re going to be on our way in the morning.” Logan replied, resigning himself to taking the lead in conversations tonight. 

“That’s another thing.” Ethan said. The younger child was fairer than his sibling, with hair a light brown that was almost gold. “Why such haste?” He sighed dramatically. “If I had the chance to travel, I would certainly take my time.” 

“You’ve never gone on so much as an overnight hunting trip, Ethan.” Terri retorted. “You wouldn’t like it.”

“I might!” 

Logan mentaly removed a few years from his estimation of their ages.

“I certainly haven’t been enjoying it.” He offered. “Though it has been an experience.” 

“Have you never traveled much before?” Terri asked. “Isn’t there hunting in the mountains?” When they gestured, Logan noted they wore a ring similar to their mother’s. 

“No, I cannot say I’ve traveled like this before.” Logan answered. “Or done much hunting. Any in fact.” 

“Oh yes,” The Count said. “Your father is a scholar, is he not? Did he raise you to follow in his footsteps?”

“Yes.” Logan said simply. He could not muster any ideas for what his fictional father might be like. Other than apparently an ex-Count. His mental image was something of his own father in a dressing gown. 

“What a pity.” Ethan sighed. “

“You know, you could stay in Lockbridge for a few days. Move from your lodgings in the morning; we have room for you.” Terri offered. 

“That’s very kind,” Logan was pulled from his enjoyment of the light, spicy broth with vegetables he’d been served. “But the sooner I get there, the better it will be.”

“Oh? Are you looking forward to returning to Green Moor Seat?” the Count asked. 

“I can’t say I remember it very much.” Logan said carefully. “But I like the comfort of a steady life.” 

“Even with your impending marriage?” 

“I suppose I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Logan frowned. 

“Do you think this is just a way for your father to get back into politics?” Ethan asked, as the soup dishes were cleared. 

“I doubt it, as I have no instructions, beyond the betrothal.” 

“What about you?” 

“Pardon?”

“Do you have any interest in politics? Whatever happens, you will be much closer to the Council of Counts.” 

Logan laughed nervously, and adjusted his glasses. 

“I - I don’t think politics would be my strength. I am more of a ‘count the stars in the sky’ sort of scholar. ” 

“Oh, useless.” Terri settled back in their chair. 

“Terri!” Ethan said sharply. 

“What? I’m just saying.” 

Fish in some sort of cream sauce was served, covered in a crumb like covering featuring nuts- and more wine. 

“You don’t have to insult him.”

“He’s not insulted, are you?” Terri smiled sweetly at Logan. 

Logan raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of wine. Remus gave a barely concealed snigger at the pause. 

“No, not particularly.” Logan answered at last. “People who are focused on physical things often consider entirely theoretical knowledge useless. It’s hardly the worst thing I’ve ever been called. You strike me as someone who excels at working the body’s muscles rather than the brain’s.” 

Neial made a sound very similar to the one Remus had made, leading to Remus winking at him, which made the sound repeat. 

“Brains don’t have muscles…” Terri muttered, and was silenced as the Count looked at them. 

“A pity.” the Count said easily. “It would certainly do Gurinkot good to have fresh ideas spread about.”

Logan wasn’t sure what to say about that, so he didn’t say anything. For a while, the conversation drifted away from him, to things like the guilds in the city. His wine glass was refilled and Remus accidentally nudged it while reaching for the salt, but nothing spilled. The chicken in sauce was very like eating General Tso’s with the bones in. Logan started to wonder how long this dinner would go on, as the night darkened around them. 

A musician came out, bowing slightly to the table before settling down with their harp. It had a lovely sound, and the woman had a clear soprano when she sang. As an added benefit, the conversation stilled while she sang, so Logan didn’t have to try and keep track of it. Pointless conversation wasn’t very interesting when he understood what was behind it, so the mundane inanities of a completely foreign world didn’t hold his interest whatsoever, no matter that he was stuck here for the time being. He wouldn’t be anywhere near a governing body, so it didn’t matter. He was more pleased to see vegetables that weren’t boiled into a nearly unrecognizable state.

“Is there anything you need, Logan?” Dainell called his attention back. 

“I don’t believe so. Due to my inexperience I lacked a few things; but between Remus and the markets here, I am quite well equipped now.” 

“Ah yes, your escort. He seems polite enough.” 

“Kind of you.” Remus grinned, giving a little salute. “I’ve been around.” 

“Oh wait-” Logan said, sitting up. “There is something. Do you have a library here? We seem to have had a mix up with our map and I’d like to compare it with another.”

“It’s back with our stuff,” Remus said “Your memory is good, but I doubt you can copy out a whole map from memory.”

“That’s true.” Logan sighed. “A pity.”

“We could send a servant for your things-”

“That’s quite alright- as I said before, it would be silly for just one night, and I believe we’re going to be crossing the bridge in the morning, and our lodgings are very convenient to it.” 

“Well, you can have a look at our maps before you go anyway.” Neial offered. “If the map you need is something we have a copy of, we can certainly let you have it.”

“Thank you very much, that’s very kind.” 

“So what Ride do you hail from, Remus was it?”

“Oh, I’m not from Gurinkot.” he said immediately. “I was a guest of Fire Mountain Lodge for a while, and so I thought I’d repay the kindness by bringing Logan to where he needed to be.” 

Logan narrowed his eyes at Remus. He couldn’t help but feel that by opting out of the setting, Remus was leaving him to drown. Just stay calm indeed. Remus at least had the background for this sort of kingdom! 

“Honestly though, it’s been my pleasure to be his escort.” 

And suddenly Logan remembered that ‘escort’ was slang for ‘prostitute’. He’d throttle Remus for that but it was his own fault for describing him that way. Remus must have been looking for an opening to make reference to that all evening. 

“And what of the country?” Ethan asked, curiously. “I don’t get much of a chance to talk to people from outside Gurinkot.” He gave a crooked smile. 

“It’s nice.” Remus said blandly. “I mean, for the most part.” 

“For the most part?” Ethan looked curious. It looked as though what was being brought out was sweets, and Logan kept his sigh of relief to himself. 

“Ah- Well, my Mother told me not to criticize how other people keep house when visiting.” Remus looked a bit embarrassed. 

“Now I’m curious.” The Count leaned forward. “I’ll admit I’m prejudiced on behalf of my kingdom, but what kind of opinion could you have?” 

“Not too fond of slaves.” Remus said simply. “Bad history with them.” He frowned into his wine glass. “Have any of you ever visited Fire Mountain?” 

It looked as if Terri wanted ask more about the slavery thing, but Remus went on.

“See, I thought it was a dormant volcano when I arrived, but it turns out that it’s even cooler than that. There’s a high pass- much too high for merchants, and it floods easy- it’s a waterfall half the time- but at the right times of year right after sunset, light catches and reflects, and it looks like a stream of fire pouring down the side. You can just barely see the edge of it from the Lodge.” he laughed. “Of course, there’s also the coal mine, but I’m pretty sure that’s why it’s named Fire Mountain.” 

“As far as I have read, that  _ is  _ the reason.” Logan agreed, backing Remus up, if only to show him how it was supposed to work. This wasn’t a game, if these people wanted, they could probably end up in the river without their bodies ever being found. He was facing the manor, and could hear the river rushing past behind him. Logan felt very much like an imposter in this setting. 

“A pity you’ll never see it again, isn’t it?” Terri commented offhandedly. 

“What? Oh, the marriage. Yes. Well. It is what it is.” Logan said, slightly chilled by that phrasing combined with his drifting thoughts. “I’m sure I’m not the only person who has to make tough choices like that.” He took stock of himself. The servants had kept filling the glasses. He had no idea how much wine he had drunk, but he was fairly sure he was still sober. Well, he was certain he wasn’t drunk, which wasn’t quite the same thing. 

“All people make choices like that at some point in their lives.” Neial said seriously. “It’s part of growing up.” 

“My mother always said it wasn’t just the choices that we made that made us adults.” Remus put in. “But how we deal with the consequences of those choices.” As everyone stared at him curiously, he flashed a grin and finished up his wine. “But hey, parents say shit like that all the time, right?” 

Logan kicked the side of his foot gently. Now was not the time for Remus to drop into his preferred crude persona. Remus nudged back, and offered him a tart from the platter. He did slump a little in his chair though. 

The conversation moved on, Terri suggesting they book passage on a barge down the trade river, and Ethan dismissing that because Terri just really liked riverboats, and had invested in one. At last, and none too soon in Logan’s opinion, The Count folded her napkin and set it on the table. 

“It is a pity that you can’t visit longer.”

“I did not anticipate visits at all.” Logan told her frankly. 

“If you pass by other seats, you may need to expect them. Your father was quite the Count in his day. And with a Council coming up soon, my fellow counts are feeling a bit ruffled.” 

“Thank you for the warning.” He waited until she had stood and the others followed suit to do so. “And thank you for your hospitality, it was a wonderful meal.” He gave a polite head dip of a bow, and she drifted into the manor with Terri on her heels. 

“If you come with me, I can bring you to the library.” Neial offered. “I often spend my evenings there.” 

Ethan offered Logan his arm, the first actual contact he’d been prompted to from the family. After a moment of hesitation, he accepted, the shorter man tucking Logan’s hand onto his forearm. 

“So what sort of map did you accidentally get?” he asked brightly, smiling up at him, as his father led the way and Remus trailed behind them at a relaxed amble.

“It only seems to have the largest roads and towns marked.” Logan replied. “The topography is very good, but it isn’t very good for knowing, say, where we could cross a more minor river, or if we could divert and find lodgings if we were overtaken by a thunderstorm.” 

Inside the manor was much quieter, the sound of the river and the falls muted after the deck. The hallways were lit mainly with the globe-like lights that were common outdoors in other locations, instead of candles or reservoir lamps. At some point, Logan was going to get a good look at them, but for now, it was probably better to ignore them. Who paid attention to light, anyway. 

The library- which was something of a glorified study, was on the other side of the manor from the river, which made a certain amount of sense. The walls were lined with glass fronted cabinets, full of books, scrolls and artifacts. There were a few of the large cabinets made up of drawers that had been in the study at Fire Mountain Lodge. There were windows, glassed in small diamond shaped panes high in the wall, even with the chandelier. Between the tops of the cabinets and the windows were tapestries and weapons hung as decorations, mostly long weapons like spears with hooks at the base. Logan looked at them for a long moment, he was fairly sure that weapon had a name, but it escaped him at the moment. 

“Now do you need a title map of all of Gurinkot?” Neial asked, running his fingers down the front of the map cabinet “Or just the central part, between here and Green Moor Ride?” 

“We probably don’t need the entire kingdom.” Logan agreed. 

Above a large desk pressed against the wall, there was a map mounted on the wall. It was much more intricate than the one he’d seen before, but he could still recognise it. There was a symbol along a large river, marking the Seat of Lockbridge. Leaning slightly on the desk, Logan located Fire Mountain, and then Fire Mountain Lodge- and then another mark labeled ‘Fire Mountain Seat’ so apparently they had already passed into a different Ride. That was a little encouraging, considering that it didn’t look like they’d gone far. 

“I wouldn’t say no, if you’ve got one with roads and Rides.” Remus put in, leaning against one of the cabinets near the door, arms crossed over his chest lazily. Ethan turned on Remus then, asking him rapid fire questions about where he was from, what he normally did, if he came into Gurinkot on a ship, or through a pass. Remus had clearly drunk more than Logan, since he blinked a little blurrily at the sudden interest. He waved most of them off, without resorting to his normal crudities to dislodge the conversation instead, joining Neial in looking at maps, while Ethan came to join Logan. 

“Logan.” he said quietly. “I don’t mean to point fingers, but I think your escort might be an escaped slave.” 

“What would lead you to that conclusion?” Logan demanded. 

“He’s evasive, he’s got both ears pierced and I think I saw scars on his wrists, like from shackles. Are you safe with him?” 

“He is keeping me safe, so I should hope so.” he retorted. 

“That isn’t an answer.” Ethan leaned closer, and Logan found himself staring into eyes the color of honey in sunlight. “Listen- the upcoming Council of Counts- something is going to happen. There have been all sorts of messages back and forth. I heard that more than one Heir has disappeared.” He glanced back at where Remus had made his father laugh somehow. “Being on the road like this- you could disappear at any time.” 

“I’m hardly anyone important-” 

“Shh-” Ethan’s finger tapped Logan’s lips and Logan jerked back a bit. “Don’t be stupid. If you weren’t important, your family wouldn’t have this arrangement.” He looked very serious. “Someone who escapes slavery rather than working out their sentence or buying their freedom- they’re dangerous.” He opened a drawer, sliding something out of it, then slipping it into the front of Logan’s jacket. “Keep yourself safe.” 

Logan blinked, feeling a little shocked at this intrusion into his personal space. Was Ethan flirting? How was he supposed to respond? 

“Logan!” Remus called, and eagerly Logan turned to face him, pulling his hand free from where it had been trapped under the younger man’s. “Turns out the map we needed is a basic one, and Master Neial let me have a copy!” he brandished a roll of paper. “We should get back, so we can get this in the mapcase and keep it safe.” Turning back he bowed over Neial’s hand. “Thank you again; but we want to get on our way in the morning.”

“True.” Logan agreed. “And again, thank you for having us. It was an honor, I’m sure.” 

“If we can’t convince you to stay with us, let me call a lantern lad to lead you back down to the lower quarter at least. I’d send you in a boat to the lower docks, but the lock had had its last cycle for the night by now.” Neial put the cabinets back in order, and led them into another arcade, emptying out into the courtyard. Neial called into an outbuilding and a servant appeared with a lantern on a stick. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” Ethan said, smiling. “You’re very interesting, Logan.” They gave the slight bow that Logan was getting used to, and  _ finally _ , they were free, walking down the stairs and ramps to the lower quarter. 

Remus walked close beside him, bumping him occasionally, and Logan could only try and contemplate the weight in the front of his coat. At the head of a last flight of stairs, Logan could see the church building, and the servant stopped. Fishing in his pouch, Logan dug out one of the coins he’d won betting on drunken darts, and offered it over. The servant blinked, pleased, and gave a bow, telling them that the stairs would lead out to the main road, and they should be able to find their way to their lodgings from there, and to please take care to avoid taverns on their way back. The servant turned back the way they’d come, and Logan and Remus descended the stairs. In the shadows at the base of the stairs, Remus sagged his entire weight onto Logan’s shoulder, hand clutching tightly. 

“So, not to worry you or shit,” he said quietly. “But I think I’ve been poisoned.”

Logan turned towards him, and Remus sagged further, resting his chin on his shoulder, as Logan put his arms around his waist automatically. 

“What do you mean ‘not to worry me’?” Logan hissed. 

“I’ve been holding it together, haven’t I?” Remus mumbled. “Drank enough of the other wine to swamp it. If I can lie down, counter poison is definitely a spell I can cast, but-” his breath huffed out. “Holding it off’s been hard.” he paused, and rubbed against Logan. “Speaking of hard- What’ve you got in your doublet?” 

“I don’t know. It was a present, apparently.” Logan sighed, and closed his eyes contemplatively, as Remus rested against him. “... I’ll carry you.” He decided.

Remus laughed. “You’ll what?” 

Logan shifted around, and hitched Remus up onto his shoulders. He rocked back and forth, testing the balance and load, hands firmly holding onto Remus’s thighs. 

“Yes, I think I can carry you most of the way.” 

He felt Remus’s hand slide into the neck of his doublet and knocked his head against his arm. 

“Stop it!” He insisted. “If you start groping me I will drop you and drag you by your feet!”

“If I was going to grope you, you’d know it.” Remus murmured in his ear, but stayed mostly limp. Logan flushed, and got moving. 

Despite that, Remus didn’t move for whatever Ethan had put into Logan’s doublet again, instead just holding on, breathing steadily, and mumbling quietly. Logan didn’t catch much, focused on moving through the streets, and keeping hold. He caught a snatch of a song that tickled at his memory, a list of names that meant nothing to him, and a repeated refrain of ‘have to find him’. Out of breath, Logan stopped. They were just around the corner from their lodgings, and other people were around. While the inn didn’t serve food or drink there were taverns nearby, and they were thick with custom. 

“I think you should walk in.” He said quietly. Remus unfolded from where he’d draped himself over Logan, and rolled his shoulders, his neck making an uncomfortable sounding crack. He then immediately slung an arm around Logan’s shoulder. 

“I am really impressed there, nerd.” He said leading them into the inn yard. “I was getting convinced that those muscles really were just for show.”

“I attempt to maintain balance in my training. I have no desire for people to be able to pick out different muscles when I flex, just have good core strength.” 

“S’ hot as fuck, not gonna lie.” His smile was lazy, but Logan could see his eyes, and his pupils were blown so far that he could barely see any color. “Next time, I wanna have my legs around you in the other direction.” It was somewhat reassuring to watch him fall back into his normal behavior. 

“And here I thought it would be the other way around.” He said mildly. “From everything you’d said before.” 

“I’m flexible. You do smell delectable.” Remus agreed. “The lily’s good on you.” 

Logan opened the door for them, and Remus waved lazily at the innkeeper as they headed up the stairs. 

“Rich people have the best booze!” he called sloppily, and Logan shushed him. Remus managed to fish the key out of his pouch, but Logan had to get it into the lock. He got Remus lying down on the bed before he turned and relocked the door. It was dark in the room, and he doubted very much he could work the fire starting kit enough to light the candle provided, so he just gave his eyes time to adjust. He collapsed on the foot of the bed.

“Might have just been a drug, not poison.” Remus muttered quietly. Reaching out Logan found a foot and drew it into his lap, easing the boot off. “Kinky there, nerd. Said I’m drugged and you start undressin’ me.” 

“Why would they have drugged you?” Logan demanded, ignoring the implication, and getting the other boot off. He’d never investigated Remus’s boots before- but he shouldn’t have been surprised to find a knife sheath on the inside of one. He felt his way up Remus’s body, and started undoing the buttons of his jacket. 

“They didn’t drug  _ me _ .” Remus said, and his eyes opened a sliver. Logan stopped, startled, as a glimmer of garnet-colored light was revealed. “It was in your goblet.” 

Logan stopped what he was doing, hands flat on Remus’s chest, feeling the rise and fall, remembering Remus almost upsetting the glass and catching it. 

“You switched our cups.” 

The glimmer of light went away as he closed his eyes. He hissed out a sharp breath, and his chest expanded. “Yeah, Specs. Said I’d keep my eye on you, didn’t I?”

“But why would they drug me?” Logan asked. “And who?” He reviewed the family they’d eaten with. The count, her more bookish consort, the sharp opinionated heir, and the sheltered-sounding son. He didn’t see how his death or difficulty would do anything for them. Reminded, he opened his jacket a bit, and reached in, removing the object. He carefully ran his hands over it. A trickle of light was coming through the shutters, and his eyes were finally adjusted enough now he could see basic shapes. “... I have a knife.” he said quietly. The bed creaked as Remus sat up. His hands covered Logan’s for a moment, warm and calloused and Logan gave up the knife. After a moment he heard the sounds of it being set down. 

“You sure do.” 

Logan watched the faint shape, darker in the darkness of the room move. Whatever luminous gleam was in Remus’s eyes was gone now. Fabric rustled and moved, and he heard it hit the floor. Drugged or not, Remus seemed better, and they still had to go in the morning. They should sleep. Logan undid his boots and pulled them off. As he sat up, suddenly there were hands on his face.

“What?”

“You’re not drunk, right?” 

“No, why-” the question was cut off by a kiss. It lingered for a long moment, lips overlapping, and then deepened. Logan wasn’t quite sure which of them did it, as he leaned into the touch. His hands came up and Remus’s dipped down, unfastening his doublet the rest of the way, and pulling it off. As it hit the floor Logan pushed forward, pressing Remus down to the mattress. He’d noticed before, the strong musculature in Remus’s thighs, which were appealing under his hands and wrapped around his hips. His skin tasted like sweat, and the cool metal of the earring he’d put on to dress up for dinner was somehow appealing. He made a thrilling noise when Logan tugged on it with his teeth. His hands were very distracting. His lips more so. They rolled over limbs tangled together, breath mingling in kiss after kiss. Relieved that whatever had happened at dinner they were both okay, Logan felt suffused with warmth. It was comforting to be so close. He let his eyes close reveling in the feeling of lips and teeth on his neck.

Sunlight hit his eyes and Logan grimaced, grunting his disapproval, raising one hand to block the light. A faint rumbling sound caught his attention, and he suddenly realised that it wasn’t a blanket that covered him. Remus was curled against his chest, arms around his neck, snoring- and drooling- slightly. He blinked slowly, staring. They had fallen asleep in the middle of making out. Logan would not have thought that possible, especially since he remembered being quite into it. Remus’s nose wrinkled a bit and he snorted, rubbing his face into the patch of skin where Logan’s shirt gapped. Logan let his arm drop back down onto his companion’s back and looked over at the table beside the bed. Remus’s knife was there, as well as a second one of similar size, presumably the one that Ethan had pressed on him last night, and a roll of paper that was probably their new map. Logan looked back at Remus and ran his fingers through the loose mass of thick dark red hair. He frowned. The patch of gray hair was definitely bigger then when he first noticed it. If it got much bigger, it would be noticeable if Remus removed it. Remus snorted again and his eyes drifted open. He pushed himself upright, framing Logan’s chest with his arms, and blinking down at him. For a moment, Logan contemplated kissing him again, morning breath and all. Then Remus started laughing. 

“Aw, shit. We were out of it last night anyway, weren’t we?” 

Logan sniffed and looked away. 

“Perhaps we were more fatigued than we thought. I certainly had an unexpected bout of exercise carrying your oversized posterior half way across town.”

“You weren’t complaining about the size of my ass last night when your hands were all over it.” Remus leered sleepily. “Mustache ride later?” 

“Don’t be crude.” Logan shoved him away, hard enough that Remus fell out of the bed.

“Ow ow ow I fell on our boots.” Remus whined, legs still on the bed. Somehow, Logan started laughing, and that made Remus grin back. 

Once they’d stopped laughing, Remus became more serious, focusing on getting them packed up, and ready to leave. 

“Whoever drugged you is going to be expecting you to still be asleep.” He explained. “So we’re going to want to get on the road before they come looking.” Remus tapped the knife against his palm, and then handed it back to Logan. “Put this in your bag for now. I’ll show you how to use it later.” 

“Shouldn’t I be wearing it like you wear yours?” 

“Honeytrap, I don’t even trust you to draw that without hurting yourself.” He reached out and for a moment Logan thought he was going to kiss him, but instead he fussed with his clothes. “One thing at a time, huh?” Then he grabbed his chin and did kiss him after all.

“Is this going to be a common occurrence?” Logan asked, managing to keep his voice calm as Remus pulled away.

“Maybe.” 

“Then maybe it can be after you’ve cleaned your teeth.” Logan shoved at his chest, and unlocked the door so they could leave.

“Aw, but sharing germs keeps you healthy.” Remus whined. 

“That is the opposite of the truth.” Logan grumbled. 

“Look at me, though, healthy as fuck!” He knocked his fist against his chest.

“I am reasonably sure you cheat.” 

The front room of the inn was empty, as they left the key in a provided box, and the stable was watched rather ineffectively by a sleeping teen on a pile of hay. As quietly as possible, they saddled the horses. Logan had gotten the hang of it, and they led them out. People were already moving past the courtyard in the streets. Logan was surprised when, rather than looking for a market, Remus led them immediately towards the large bridge that spanned the river. 

“I thought we needed supplies?” 

“The bridge has shops.” His switch had flipped again, and Remus was focused. “All we need is feed; for us and the horses.” Reaching back he patted Samson’s shoulder. “I’ll try to get you boys treats, you’ve been great.” 

As they approached, Logan saw that he was right, there were shops built right on the stonework bridge; he had been so busy admiring the craftsmanship of the bridge itself he hadn’t noticed. Frankly the engineering of the bridge was more impressive than the fancy houses they’d passed the night before. Logan was distracted, as Remus bought things from carts and stalls. He passed Logan a bread roll that was still warm from the oven, soft and dotted with fruit. They were nearly on the far side, when Logan stopped and stared at the lock. The massive construction was even more impressive than the bridge, somehow, and the lower doors were just opening as they were passing, showing four large boats and a scattering of smaller barges. He’d read about locks of course, but somehow, seeing this was just… much more intense. The boats and barges poured out in an orderly fashion, and then a line of new barges were towed in. Logan was startled out of his observation with a pat on the ass. He turned to glare at Remus, who just grinned. 

“We’re good. Let’s get. I got the oats while you were being a gawking tourist.”

“It’s just very impressive!” Logan protested, but followed along. On the other side of the river, even lower buildings spread out, workshops, warehouses, what was possibly either a papermill or a tannery. But before they could get there- there was a gate like the one they’d entered the town through. The line for entering the gate was full of produce wagons. Hardly anyone was exiting. More irritatingly, as they drew even, Logan could smell coffee coming from inside their shelter. The watch woman was yawning, a book tucked under her arm. 

“Names please.”

“Remus Ulf, Logan Teach. Travelers.” Remus said cheerfully. 

“Getting a jump on the road? Markets are barely open.” She leafed through the book. “Ah, here you are. Not even in Lockbridge Seat a full day. You  _ are  _ in a hurry.” 

“Sometimes it’s more about the destination.” Remus scratched at his head. 

“Huh, if you say so.” She waved them past, and Logan let out a sigh of relief as they passed into the outer town. There were definitely slaughterhouses and tanneries in this district, but the road was still broad and even, curving up to the headland beyond the river. As they walked, Remus unrolled the new map. 

“We haven’t marked the destination yet, but with the towns and Rides- look.” Logan took one side of the map, spreading it out between them. 

“Green Moor Ride.” Logan sighed. “I suppose it all fits then.” trying to remember the path he’d only really seen one, he scanned the map. “The trade roads will take us there. We might be able to cut off time if we took these smaller roads that cut through Rides.”

“There’s one thing that bothers me.” Remus admitted. 

“What?”

“We still don’t know what kind of story we’re in.” He threw his hands wide, leaving Logan holding the map. “And given what happened last night-”

“Given what happened last night, I think something political is going on.” Logan rolled the map up. “Something that involves the Heir of Fire Mountain, and the Seat of Green Moor. They said the Council of Counts was going to convene soon. If I had my guess, something is up with the Crown, and ‘my’ ” he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers “family, and slash or future family has something to do with it.” 

Remus looked at him admiringly and Logan blinked in surprise. 

“Oh you’re good.” 

“I don’t know about that. It’s a fairly basic plot in a fantasy story. You could be a plant from either side.”

“Nah, I’m a fruit.” He laughed as Logan glared at him. 

“I would think you would be the one taking this seriously.” 

“This is as serious as I get!” 

They walked the horses up to the high road, which gave a good look at the lower towns, though the bluffs where the upper class were still above them. For a moment, Logan thought that he might be able to see further, beyond that to the mountains that they’d emerged from, but on a second glance, he was sure it was a cloud formation. They hadn’t been riding very long when Remus sat up straight in the saddle and actually turned Samson around to face the other direction. Logan reined up as he’d been taught, but didn’t turn the horse, just twisted in his seat. 

“Someone is coming.” Remus growled, eyes narrowing. After he said that, Logan thought that he might be able to hear hoofbeats. Then a horse appeared behind them, galloping towards them. Turning back and drawing close to Logan, Remus nudged Phillip with one foot. “Over to the edge of the road, single file. If we’re lucky it’s just a courier.”

“What are you worried about?” Logan asked. 

“Being chased.” 

The horse that approached was different from the ones they rode, sleaker, larger, longer legs. It approached almost at speed, passed them and wheeled, effectively blocking them from traveling further. While dusty, and wearing very simplified clothing, it was Ethan, the count’s son from the night before. He also wore a saber, fastened to his waist. Logan decided that he didn’t care for his hat which was a rather squashed looking number adorned with feathers and a jeweled clasp, or the expression he wore. 

“Is there a problem?” Remus asked, in a distinctly ‘talking police’ tone of voice. 

“I trust there isn’t?” Logan said, in his own version of that voice, which was distinctly more polite and differential. 

“Show me your wrists!” Ethan demanded. 

“What?” 

“Your wrists.” 

“Striptease costs extra, boy.” Remus retorted. 

“I am not having this. I need to see your wrists.”

“And what’s that going to prove?”

“If you don’t have anything to hide, then why don’t you just do it?” He urged his horse closer to them, and Phillip danced back a few steps, snorting. Logan shifted uncomfortably as he tried to get his horse to stay still. 

“Is this about what you said last night?” Logan demanded. “This is completely unnecessary. I have faith in my escort, and beyond that, the people who arranged for him.” 

“I think you’re too trusting.”

“If that were true, wouldn’t I be trusting you?” Logan retorted, and Ethan flinched, but frowned. 

“Well?” He stuck his chin out. 

“You know what, fuck it.” Remus pulled off his jacket, shrugging off the strap that held his knife in place and yanked his entire shirt off over his head, baring not just his wrists but his entire upper body to the sunlight. He spread his arms wide. “Take a good look, kid.” 

Logan knew that Remus had scars, but he hadn’t seen them in daylight. In the mornings, Remus only washed what parts were visible, and in the evenings, the lamplight was kinder. There were lines that might have been cuts on his torso and arms, all well healed and some barely visible, and a series of lines on his back that had not been healed as well. Logan counted ten like score marks as Remus pushed Samson forward towards Ethan’s horse. 

“But these are the ones you’re interested in, aren’t they?” He held his arms out. “Chain galls, slaver. That’s what you wanted to see.” Those marks were well healed, and normally hidden beneath his shirt cuffs. Even in the bright morning sunlight they were barely visible, and probably old. 

“I… yes.” Ethan returned weakly. 

“Maybe you should ask yourself if there’s another reason a man might be in chains, hrm? I can think of a dozen. Madness, arrest, imprisonment, just looking for a fun time on a Saturday night- but no. You looked at me and said ‘he must have been a slave.’” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “But no. I never was. Not in this land or any other.” 

“Green Moor Ride never sent an escort.” Ethan swallowed. “Where did you come from?” 

“I told you lot last night. I was a guest at Fire Mountain Lodge.” 

“Who  _ are  _ you?” 

“That’s enough.” Logan snapped. “Remus put your shirt back on. Ethan, I don’t know what possessed you to do this, but enough. There is no logic to your accusations. You have no attachment to me to prompt this kind of worry.”

“They’re going to replace the Crown.” Ethan said, strangled as Remus slid his shirt back into place and started tucking it in. “The Counts. There wasn’t a consensus, but then, suddenly, Green Moor Ride changed it’s vote, and others followed. Something big is coming, and it starts with you. I don’t know why, but it does. So you need to be safe.”

Logan just raised his eyebrows. 

“I think you must be mistaken. How can one scholar mean so much?” 

“I don’t know!” Ethan snapped. “But my mother wanted to keep you in the Seat, not continue on to your appointment.” 

“And you’re here to take him back are you? By yourself?” Remus’s voice rumbled with amusement. 

“No. Maybe. I…” Ethan deflated a little. “I have dreams. Dreams that come true. And you have the stench of revolution about you.” 

Logan scoffed. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

“I assure you it’s true.” 

Remus reached out and touched Logan’s arm. Logan glared at him and Remus just raised his eyebrows and looked up and to the left. To the patch of white in his hair. Logan remembered the fairies suddenly and with almost concussive force, sagging slightly in the saddle with sourceless want. He shook that off, and focused instead on the young man in front of him. 

“Very well. Ethan I will accept your prophetic dreams, if you accept that I have no intention of getting involved with the politics of Gurinkot. I want a peaceful life. A  _ long  _ peaceful life.” 

“I’m afraid for you that you’ll have no choice.” Ethan said very quietly. He looked over at Remus now, who was finished redressing. “... I should apologise. I should not have accused you of misdeeds with no proof.” 

“If you wanna do that, join the watch.” Remus retorted. “But sure. Logan’s willing to trust your intentions, so I will too.” he paused. “Is the Count likely to send someone after us?” 

“... no.” Ethan shook his head. “The Count my mother expects to collect you both later today. I took the first lock down to the city. I often ride in the mornings, to shake the cloud of dreams.” 

“And how did you know we wouldn’t be there?”

“Because I knew you would be here.” 

Remus snorted quietly, and Logan tried not to roll his eyes. He had seen Remus do magic, when summoning the light, and presumably he’d done another charm yesterday to clear the drug, not to mention everything else, but his first reaction was still skepticism when it came to magic. 

“Should I return this?” Logan produced the knife. Both the handle and the sheathe were simple, slightly purple blue leather, the only adornment was a silken tassel tied just below the hilt. 

“No. My gift was in good faith, and no matter what you intend for your life, others may have other intentions. Keep yourself safe.” He muscled his horse between Phillip and Samson, making Remus growl, and held out a gloved hand to Logan. Returning the knife to his bag, Logan took it, and was surprised as Ethan kissed his knuckles, gently. “If you need help, write to me as Ethan Ibrite and I will do all I can. You may be wrapped in the fog of revolution, but I think you’re a good man.” 

Logan just blinked for a long moment. 

“Ah… yes. Thank you. I… I will.” After a long moment, the soft leather glove slid away, and Ethan rode back towards the city. Remus nudged Samson forward, and Phillip followed along. They rode in silence for several minutes, before Remus spat into the dust of the road. 

“Fuck that noise.” He grumbled. “What the hell.” 

“What the hell indeed.” Logan sighed, looking at the back of his hand, and wondering what that was all about. 

“Is that your type then? Blond pretty boys?” 

“What?” Logan almost laughed. “I mean, I have. I wouldn’t say I have a  _ type _ .” He looked over at Remus and the way the sun hit his hair, pulling out the red from the auburn. He thought about the brilliant smiles that the barista- Roman- handed out like candy, so different than any of Remus’s grins. They did look alike- strikingly so to his memory, but hardly identical, he thought. Strange that he was homesick suddenly for the CAT Café, and not his own apartment. “Pretty certainly. But that’s a very wide range. The last person I had relations with on a regular basis was blond and petite.” 

“Feh.” Remus spat again. 

“Are you jealous?” Logan asked, startled. Remus stared at the sky for a long moment. 

“... no.” he answered, and it didn’t sound forced. “I mean, should I be, do I have anything to be jealous over?”

“I assure you I am not tempted by a fictional liaison.” Logan said sharply. “However pretty the boy happens to be.” 

“Still, he didn’t have to flirt that hard.” 

“Compared to you he was very polite.” 

“Yeah, I’m not really bothering with that.” 

“Oh thank goodness, if this was you trying to be polite, I’d be terrified.” 

That brought a laugh out of Remus, and Logan gave a small restrained smile of his own. Remus rose in his stirrups and looked down the road. A smile curled at the edges of his mouth, and Logan was not entirely sure if the sensation in his stomach was fondness or terror. Or both. 

“Lesson time!” He chirped. “We’ve got a good clear patch of road up ahead.”

“Oh no.” Logan said softly.

“Yep!” Remus kicked in his heels, and Samson took off. Phillip startled, then dashed after his companion. Logan no longer had time to think, only hold on. 

Logan lay flat on his back and stared up at the sky. There was something surreal about not being able to pick out constellations. Well, he supposed there were constellations, but none he’d recognise where he’d recognise. But there were just so many stars, so bright. There was no light pollution. He heard Remus approach, and didn’t move or speak. 

“... are you still mad at me?”

“Am I mad at you?” Logan asked, tone flat. 

“So yes.” He sighed explosively. “You did great, you know. You didn’t fall off until he stopped!” 

Logan didn’t answer. 

“I mean that was only the second time you’ve fallen off at all! I mean fuck, I fell off more than that the first day I rode a horse!”

“Remus.” 

“So I get that I shouldn’t spring shit on you, but you gotta be prepared.”

“Remus.”

“Yes?”

“Lie down, will you?” 

Remus lay down, not next to Logan like he expected, but stretched out in the other direction, heads near each other.

“I don’t think I’m mad at you. I just needed some quiet.” 

“Ah. Which I am bad at.”

“I presume you can be stealthy, as it seems like it would be in your skill sets, but I also have to admit I cannot fathom you being quiet.” 

“I just need a reason.” 

“Mnn hmm. I’m sure you can if you want to.” Logan said dryly, staring up at the stars. 

“You could give me a reason.” how he could make a smirk audible was beyond Logan, but Remus was talented like that. “It’s gonna be cold tonight. You can tell because of how clear it is.” 

“What do you want out of me?” Logan turned his head, and looked Remus in the eye. That seemed to give the duke pause. 

“Do I have to want something?” He asked, bringing a hand up, and not quite touching Logan’s hair. “Maybe things don’t have to mean things.” 

“That’s not how things work.” Logan frowned. 

“There is so much in life that has to have meaning, and structure and shit.” Remus said, staring into his eyes. “Why not take advantage of stuff that doesn’t? Let things be. No matter what you do, you’re not going to actually find meaning in the stars. But they’re still beautiful right.” He turned his face so he was looking at the sky. “They’re chaos. They do what they wanna. And it’s glorious.” 

Logan stared up at the stars. They were impressive. 

“That is fine for stars. But I am not a star. Well, clearly, given that I’m here, and not a burning ball of gas, thousands of millions of miles away.” 

“Good thing you cleared that up.” Remus snorted. 

“I like schedule. I like meaning. I… my life is ultimately meaningless.” he reached out up towards the sky for a moment, then let his hand drop back down to his stomach. “If I live, or if I die, it doesn’t matter to the universe, or the world, or anything else.” 

“Shit, specs, anyone can say that.” 

“True. So, schedule. It’s the honeycomb that gives us shape.” 

They were both silent for several long minutes. 

“Bees make their own honeycomb. It’s an excretion from their bellies that they chew and shape. No one tells them how to make it, but they all make it the same. But-” his hand moved and now he was gently stroking a few braids just over Logan’s ear, almost soothingly. “They make it even if they aren’t in a hive with framework. They’ll make the wax, and they’ll make the honey out of anything.”

“Bees are fascinating.” Logan sighed. He turned his head, and the gentle caress of his hair continued, now on the back of his head. “Stars are fascinating as well, and yet you’re looking at me.” 

“Yeah, well. Making honeycomb.” he shifted, just slightly, giving Logan time to move. He didn’t and for a while, they kissed under the stars. 

The dotted travel line didn’t follow the highroad. It didn’t make sense to Logan, and he kept looking back and forth between the maps, trying to make it make sense. The highroad would be better maintained, and would get them to their apparent goal of Green Moor Seat faster. The end point really did appear to be that town, once they compared the newer map. They would be crossing two more rides, which would make the over all trip at least a month long, barring problems. There was no way Logan would have a job when he returned. He sighed heavily. 

“Pencils down, nerd.” Remus called. “It’s physical education time, and I’m not talking about where babies come from!” 

Logan looked up from where he was sitting, and slowly began rolling the maps up. 

“I thought we were taking a break.” he said mildly. 

“We’re giving the boys a break- but you need practice if you wanna get good.” He gestured at a tree nearby where he’d drawn a target in charcoal. Logan stowed the maps, and got to his feet. Remus had shown him how to safely sheath and unsheath the large knife, along with the basics of using it as a weapon and it was a lump at the small of his back that he was still getting used to. A second pouch had been added on the other side of his belt, and that held a half dozen of the throwing stars, which Logan was starting to regret choosing. While his hand eye coordination had them all flying in the basic direction he intended, precision and force was escaping him. The first few times they hadn’t even gotten to the target, which Remus had found hilarious. Then he had demonstrated again, the stars making a neat line across the target- and he capped it by throwing his boot knife with equal ease before Logan had even seen him draw it. 

As Remus strolled back towards him Logan drew a star, and spun it thoughtfully between his fingers for a moment, trying to feel for the weight and balance Remus had talked about. He could balance it on a finger tip or make it spin between his thumb and forefinger, but throwing was still a strange motion. 

He threw it, and it hit the tree and bounced off- outside the target. Logan narrowed his eyes in irritation, and blindly picked another. As he raised his arm, he suddenly realised what was wrong, and adjusted, the motion changing from an overhand toss to a flick of his wrist. 

The star flew straight instead of a curve or an arc, and thunked solidly into the bark of the tree, sticking in place inside the target area. Remus perked up from where he was sitting, and Logan repeated the same motion, not putting his entire arm into it. Again it hit inside the target and stuck. The next one he forgot and used his whole arm again, and it missed the target. The last two however hit more or less where he aimed them. 

Remus cheered, leaping to his feet and grabbing Logan’s hands, dancing haphazardly in a circle, and ending with kissing each of Logan’s hands. 

“I knew you could get it.” 

“Well.” Logan couldn’t help but smile, pleased with himself. “Now I just need to do it consistently.” 

“Get your head off the bar, do you know what’s been there?” 

“Disinfectant, from the smell.” Roman raised his head anyway, propping his chin on his hands as Virgil put a drink in front of him. In theory he had come by to hang out and keep Virgil from going batshit and yelling at his customers, but instead he’d been kind of quiet. Which normally, Virgil wouldn’t mind, but it was a little concerning. 

“Don’t drink it too fast, that’s the last one you’re getting out of me.” flipping his head to put his bangs out of his eyes, Virgil leaned opposite Roman for the moment. 

“Terrible service, I’ve never been so insulted, I’ll just take my custom elsewhere.” Roman sniffed, but didn’t even move to pick the drink up. Virgil scanned the length of the bar, waiting for someone to call for him. 

“Whatever Karen.” Virgil had taken a bartending course just before his parents had died, and he always felt fortunate about that, since he never would have been able to finish college with a full time job. 

Frankly, an english degree didn’t exactly have him swimming in job offers anyway. Bartending was steady work. He’d worked in several locations, and he really preferred actual bars. The patrons were more interesting in clubs, but more exhausting as well. He really liked this bar, in particular. Fish on a Bike wasn’t strictly a gay bar, but it was pretty damn close. The main decoration- and a lot of the light came from the fish tanks that bordered the booths, giving everything a soft, muted feeling and the faint sound of trickling water from the filters. There was music playing from the jukebox, and a couple were slow dancing in front of it, and if the music wasn’t anything he liked at least it wasn’t so loud it made his head hurt. The people at the bar were chatting quietly, or drinking with determination. There was a more rowdy booth at the other end, but thank god, the waitress had to deal with them, not him. That was the rowdy corner anyway, anyone who looked like they were going to cause trouble got seated there, and only the strongest willed waitresses were put on those tables. Everyone else pitched in part of their tips to make sure those sacrifices were honored. “So how’s Andy?” 

“I think Andy’s going to be okay. He was good when I left, just yelling at his homework.” Roman traced his finger around the edge of his cup. “But… man, it makes you think.”

“Something makes you think?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. 

“I mean, I can say being asexual doesn’t matter, but… it’s not like I’m having any luck, either.”

“Maybe if you manned up and asked your venti americano out.” 

Roman sighed explosively and took a gulp. 

“Virge if someone came in and hit on you at work, that’d be super creepy.”

“Not the same, it would be like if I hit on you.” Glancing down the bar, he leaned forward across the bar, and put one hand on Roman’s hand, and the other under his chin. “You look pretty thirsty there, pretty boy. Maybe I can help with that?” 

“Oh my god.” Roman started laughing, and Virgil settled back on his heels. “And that’s why you’re single, you know that right?”

Virgil scoffed. 

“I was doing my best impression of  _ you _ .” 

“Oh!” Roman gasped, offended. “How dare! I could do better than that.”

“You  _ could _ , but you  _ won’t _ . So it doesn’t  _ count. _ ” Virgil smirked at him. 

Roman took another gulp of his drink, glaring. 

“Slow down, no-Romo. I know you’re staying till close, but try not to do it passed out.”

“I can handle it.”

“Do you even know what you’re drinking?” 

Roman looked at his glass. “... there’s fruit juice in it?” 

“Yeah, hold that thought.” Virgil slid down the bar, closing out one person’s tab, getting someone else a refill, and arriving at the far end in time to fill an order for one of the waitresses from the back.

“And they said to get you to pour me a shot too.” she said, looking exceptionally put out. 

“... do you want one?” 

“You know what, yeah. They’re just trying to hit on me, but one shot is hardly going to do more than take the edge of the headache they’re giving me.” 

Virgil snorted, and poured her a shot before getting to work on the drinks, which were simple enough, at least. He glanced back at the booth. Ridiculous college students trying to prove how tough they were by drinking absolute shit. No taste whatsoever. He checked his phone under the bar and sighed. It was barely midnight. Virgil closed out another check, and greeted two newcomers, getting them their drinks before he drifted back to Roman. By the time he’d gotten there, Roman had attracted an admirer, and finished his drink despite Virgil’s warning. 

“Hey.” The guy said to Virgil, with a kind of pleasant sleepy voice. He looked familiar, so he was probably a regular, and Virgil would remember him or he wouldn’t. “Glad to see you. Can you get me two black russians?” 

“Sure.” It was his job after all. Roman was smiling now, leaning on his elbow as his new admirer was telling him a story about an improbable interaction. Virgil kept his opinions to himself. When he set the drinks down, Roman smiled at him. 

“Hey, Virge, have you met Nate? He’s pretty funny.” 

“I think I’ve seen him around.” 

Nate grinned at Virgil. 

“Hey, I never got your name before. It’s a good name.” 

“Yeah, well you didn’t ask.” Not that Virgil would have told him. He had no obligation to tell any of the customers his name, so he didn’t generally. Most of them were content to treat him as a sarcastic vending machine for booze, and he was fine with that too. He answered someone else’s call for another beer, and noticed out of the corner of his eye that one of the drinks had been for Roman, who was apparently getting around Virgil’s decision to cut him off. It wasn’t that Roman was that drunk, Virgil was just keeping an eye on him. Sometimes Roman got into a weird mood when he was drunk and he hated doing it in public. Not that it stopped him, really he was just embarrassed about it later. If he wanted to flirt with a slightly stubbly white guy in a leather motorcycle jacket, well, he could do a lot worse. But Virgil wasn’t going to stop keeping an eye on him.

Two more drinks, and Nate had kissed Roman’s cheek, making him dissolve into giggles, then turned it around, flirting right back, and putting his extensive hand-kissing practice to work, which seemed to be working, bafflingly enough. It was closer to two than one and closing time was approaching when he remembered Nate. Nate was a cop. Which wasn’t, Virgil reminded himself, a reason to dislike him. But he was also a cop that was plying his best friend with drinks and flattery. Which might be good for Roman, but Virgil was just not prepared to have a cop that close to his life. Which meant that this flirting needed to be stopped, before they actually tried dating. Bound to happen at this point, oh hell, he was whispering in Roman’s ear, and Roman was laughing again. He was going to lose his best friend. Virgil tried to focus on the last of the people in the bar, and pre-cleaning as much as possible. 

Virgil couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, when rather than trying to entice Roman home with him, Nate rounded off his flirting by writing his number on the back of Roman’s hand, and attempting a hand kiss in return which only made Roman laugh. He watched him go, then turned around and waved at Virgil excitedly. 

“Did you see that? I made a new friend. I guess I am pretty cute after all, huh?”

“Adorable.” Virgil said dryly, getting out hand sanitizer and a napkin. “You’re skunked, Ro.”

“Lies and slander.” Roman frowned. 

“You were drunk when he started buying you drinks.” 

“And he was a gentleman. And I was a gentleman, we were gentlemen together.” 

“Mn-hmn.” Virgil mumbled skeptically, taking Roman’s hand and wiping it down, turning the sharpie’d number to a faint smear.

“What are you doing?” Roman asked, despite the fact he was watching him do it. 

“Damage control.” He tossed the napkin into the trash. 

“Oh.” He blinked a few times. “...my mouth tastes like coffee. Did I really talk about coffee for an hour?” 

“Only about forty minutes.” 

“Well that’s better then.” He propped his head on his hand. “Virge, do… do you know I used to be two people?”

“You’ve mentioned.” Only when he was well and truly drunk. Virgil hadn’t heard about it lately. 

“It’s lonely.” Roman said mournfully and looked at his hand. “Did I get his number?” 

“Doesn’t look like it.” Virgil turned away so Roman wouldn’t see his face. He wasn’t a great liar. 

“Oh. D’you ever feel sorry for kids these days? I mean, when I was a kid, when I was two people, I’d just wander off into the underbrush for like, half the day, and no one really worried. I guess it’s not like I was alone or anything.”

“Roman, you are giving me retroactive anxiety about it.” He fished a bottle of water out of the fridge and opened it before handing it to his friend. “Drink this.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Loi? It won’t work.” He took a sip anyway, and Virgil crossed his arms, amused. 

“Why won’t it work?”

“Because I’m already drunk.” Half of the bottle was gone already. “Virge, I… I’m gonna fight in crown tourney.”

“No you aren’t.”

“Yes I am. I’m gonna be king. And I’m gonna make you my queen, because you’re my best friend.”

Virgil covered his mouth with his hand, but didn’t manage to stifle his laughter completely. 

“Nuuu don’t laugh, I love you.” Roman started to make grabby hands at him, but he stopped and gulped the rest of his bottle, putting it down on the bar. “But I gotta pee, so hold that thought.” 

Virgil didn’t even try to hold that laugh in, watching Roman go fondly until someone called for him down the bar. Last call was coming up fast. 

Roman was halfway sober by the time they got home. It was a good trick that Roman used to take more advantage of when they were in college. He might be fairly easy to get drunk, but staying drunk just wasn’t something he did. Something about his metabolism, he guessed. He was drunk enough that he cooed over Andy being curled up on the couch and took a picture, but sober enough to toss a blanket over him. He was still drunk enough that Virgil had to pick up the corner of the blanket, pull Andy’s laptop out and put it on the coffee table, however. At least Andy had shed the spiked jacket, because wrestling him out of it was a pain, and once he managed to get to sleep, he was dead to the world. 

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you.” Roman nudged Virgil’s side.

“Dude, you gave up your Friday night to hang out with me at work, where I could barely talk to you. Don’t thank me for your bad choices.” 

This was a conversation that they’d had several times. Roman wrapped his arms around Virgil. 

“You hang out with me at work.”

“Yeah, but your boss lets you give me free drinks.” He relaxed against him. Roman wasn’t beefy, like some guys, but every bit of him was muscle. “Besides, it’s the whole aesthetic, isn’t it? Writing a novel at a coffee shop.”

“You’re not writing a novel.” Roman protested, face shoved into Virgil’s hair. “You’re editing other people’s novels for ten bucks a chapter.” 

“Somebody has to.” He held still for a moment, then started squirming. “Now leggo, it’s almost four in the morning.”

“You say that like you’re not gonna be on tumblr for at least an hour on your phone.” Roman mumbled, but then he yawned. 

“Yeah, and I’m losing precious tumblr time. Not to mention I’ve been on my feet for like eight hours.” 

“Poor little feet.”

“They aren’t little!” 

“Cute little size nines.” he cooed.

“Stooop.” Virgil elbowed him. Roman responded by picking him up, and he grabbed at him in surprise. “Gah!”

“Shoosh.” Roman swayed back and forth. “You’ll wake the baby.”

“Sober you is so lucky he forgets the bullshit drunk you gets up to.” Virgil grumbled, trying not to wiggle too much. The last thing he wanted was to get dropped. He was carried right past his bedroom door. “Roman do not!” 

Elbowing his own bedroom door open, Roman flopped down on his bed without letting go, lying on top of the covers. 

“Night.” He mumbled. 

“I fucking hate you.” Virgil squirmed until he was lying comfortably, pulling his phone out anyway. 

“No you don’t.” 

“Shut up.” Once Roman was sleeping, he’d get loose and into his own bed. In the meantime, tumblr was the same in either room. 

Anyway, it was warm and Roman had replaced his mattress more recently. 

Virgil was wrong about one thing. 

Roman did remember most of what happened when he was drunk. The details were just a bit fuzzy. For instance, he did remember flirting and drinking coffee flavored cocktails with a decently cute guy. He couldn’t quite remember his name, however. Jake maybe? Not really important, because ‘cute enough to let him buy me drinks’ did not translate to ‘cute enough to go on a real date with’. Roman also remembered that he’d started rambling about his old imaginary friend and winning the crown at Virgil, and that he’d done it for most of the way home. He absolutely remembered picking Virgil up and using him as the world’s grouchiest teddy bear, which was supported by the hoodie that was falling off the other side of the bed, but Virgil was nowhere to be seen in the bright light of morning. 

Peering at his phone, Roman grumbled. He had a shift in just over an hour, and there was fighting practice that afternoon. He could skip that, of course, but an acquaintance had promised to run bouts with a halberd, and Roman was determined to beat his pole weapon problem. Which meant he had to get up. 

Stumbling into the shower, Roman scrubbed off, then switched the water to cold for a last rince, just to make sure he was awake. It was horrible, but it was recommended for good skin, and it sure did work. 

Andy was still asleep on the couch when Roman passed, torso half off the cushions and snoring. Roman hooked the back of his shirt and yanked him to a safer position, making the young man snort and start waking up. Roman didn’t usually drink coffee at home, he was spoiled by the fancy coffee makers at work, but he did wake up the pod brewer for Andy before he started mixing things up for an omelet. Putting Virgil’s well-tended cooking knives to work, he chopped vegetables efficiently, but it didn’t require enough concentration to keep his mind from drifting. 

It wasn’t unusual to have an imaginary friend. When he was a kid, they’d lived an hour into the back of nowhere, and there were no other kids around, so it made sense that he’d make up a playmate. He’d been homeschooled until after his mother died. When she’d died, his stepfather had taken him and moved. It had been a huge adjustment for him to suddenly be in the well tended suburbs, but Roman had ultimately liked it. He had missed his imaginary friend so much his Dad had sent him to therapy, though. That had kinda sucked, even though it had also helped him adjust to his new environment, and the unfamiliar discipline of school. It had taken the better part of a year to detach him from his certainty that his imaginary friend had been a real person, which had held him back in school. His therapist had suggested that his insistence about his imaginary friend was real had been a coping mechanism about his mother’s death. At this point, Roman mostly remembered that it existed, and the vague impression that his imaginary friend was just a mirror reflection of himself. Roman snorted, and scraped his vegetables into the frying pan, embarrassed for his younger self’s lack of originality. 

A zombie entered the kitchen and stumbled into the fridge. Roman ignored it in favor of carefully folding the omelet. The pod coffee maker hissed in disapproval, and the zombie hissed back. 

“You awake yet?”

“It’s a trap.” Mumbled Andy, smearing eyemakeup he hadn’t taken off the night before across his face as he rubbed his eyes. He started pouring creamer into his mug. “Being conscious sucks. I’ve got therapy this afternoon. And I didn’t finish my homework before I crashed.” 

Roman set a plate down on the tiny kitchen table. 

“Here, eat this before you start caffinating.” 

Andy managed to open his eyes more just to make eye contact with Roman before slamming the contents of the mug in his hand. He started coughing, mostly because the only thing in the mug was sweetened creamer.

“I might have deserved that.” Andy choked, and grabbed the mug that was still on the coffee maker, adding creamer to the coffee, and dropping the dirty mug into the sink. Roman started a second omelet for himself, this one with only enough cheese to hold it together. By the time they finished, Roman’s hair was dry, and Andy was awake. Well, mostly.

“Are you gonna come in this afternoon? I get off at four, but Remy’s taking over for me, and the literary group is coming in, so you can watch him swooning over his crush.” The switch had been flipped, Roman was awake and practically a morning person. Andy stuffed the last bite into his mouth and just glared. 

“No decisions are being made until I shower.” he growled. 

“Okay. But don’t forget therapy, ok?” 

“It’s on my phone.” 

On his way past, Roman peered into the dark cave of Virgil’s bedroom to make sure that he was there and breathing, before finishing getting dressed, and dashing off to make it to work with a whole three minutes to spare like a responsible manager. 

It was quarter to two when Roman got a text.

te Emo> fuckin wipe knives after you use them.

swordandbored> good morning to you too.

te Emo>I’m serious. Stop leaving them in the sink, it’s bad for them.

te Emo>aslo stop leaving me the dishes.

swordandbored> in my defence I left Andy with the dishes. ;D

te Emo>don’t d face me you peice of shit.

te Emo>you know perfectly well andy won’t do dishes unless forced

te Emo>esspecaily in the morning. 

swordandbored> Bad parenting.

swordandbored> shit.

swordandbored> sorry.

Roman got called to do a series of lattes for a handful of teenage girls, who leaned over the counter to watch and try to flirt. He smiled and nodded, and tried to respond in a noncommittal fashion. They just wanted things to be pretty and fun, and there was no harm in that, but he sure wasn’t interested in that. He was also about eighty percent that he hadn’t been that lewd at sixteen. Talking about dipping his fingers into cream- jeezy creezy. It could have been innocent, but he very much doubted it. They were probably just egging each other on, judging from the giggles. 

te Emo>it’s okay, dumbass

te Emo>it’s not like we’re the only people with dead parents in the world. 

swordandbored> you’re doing a great job with him. 

te Emo>yeah, but I’m not his parent. 

te Emo>and he still won’t wash dishes

swordandbored> to be fair I hate it too. Squirmy wet noodles, ick.

te Emo>gah! Now I’m thinking about it, thanks asshole. 

swordandbored> bwahahah. My distraction technique is flawless.

swordandbored> I’m not gonna be home until like 8

te Emo>I’ll make sure hte sink is full. 

swordandbored> my poor, delicate artist’s hands.

swordandbored> T_T 

te Emo>and the prince turns into a pathetic pumpkin. 

te Emo>I’m gonna make shrimp carbonara. 

patheticpumpkin> what have I done to deserve this torture? 

te Emo>I’ll leave your serving in the fridge.

patheticpumpkin> all is forgiven.

Logan tried to push his glasses up with his shoulder. It didn’t quite work, but with his hands bound tightly to the saddlehorn, there wasn’t much he could do. 

“This is ridiculous and I would like to register a complaint.”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Logan narrowed his eyes and just glared. He was not impressed, or particularly scared, which seemed to be throwing his abductors off. 

They had been ambushed at a narrow wooden bridge two days ago, not too far from the border of Green Moor Ride, and frankly, if he had his guess they were in that Ride now. Despite their best efforts the group of bandits had overwhelmed them before they could get free, and the last time Logan had seen Remus he’d been falling towards the river far below the bridge, having bounced against the cliff as he was flung off. Logan had expected similar treatment, but instead he was dogpiled, and disarmed. He counted himself lucky that the pouch containing his phone had just been shoved into the saddlebags, along with both his eating knife and long knife. He ached in several places, was bruised and dirty, but felt stubbornly proud that one of his captors was unable to raise an arm that he had hit with one of the throwing stars. He would have been more proud if he’d been aiming for the arm, not the central mass, but still, it was a small victory. Logan would take whatever he could. Much to his annoyance, the bandits did not indulge in helpful exposition-rich conversations, and his attempts to lure them into some had been less than successful. 

Instead, they had attempted to taunt him with Remus’s death, but Logan held firm in his belief that the Duke was alive if not well, and certainly tracking them already. For example, one of the bandit’s number had gone missing early that morning. That had actually started one of the more informative arguments they’d had. But all he’d learned was what he’d already suspected; someone had hired these men to capture him. They were too well organized and armed in his amateur opinion to be real bandits, however artfully worn their garments were.Their horses were both well fed and of good quality- more of the long legged type than Samson and Phillip. Samson was carrying nothing but saddle bags at the moment, and looked cranky about it, so Logan almost pitied the next person who would try to unload him. 

“What are you smiling at?” snarled one of the bandits. Tak, Logan thought he’d been called. He’d lost teeth in the initial fight.

“Oh am I smiling? I didn’t realise.” Logan said mildly, and attempted to push his glasses up again. If he bent down to use his hands, they would slide back as he sat back up. He suspected that one of the arm pieces was bent, and of course, he wasn’t permitted use of his hands to try and fix that. “I just was thinking about how probable your death was. In the near future, I mean.” He glanced over at the wounded man. “Him as well, Seig was it? Your arm looks like it might be suffering from sepsis. A pity, I’m sure. Sorry that I can’t be sorry about that, all things considered. It must be painful. It will get worse.”

“Can it, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty? Flattering, but I prefer people who use their brains.”

“You’re not using yours.” The person who spoke was the oldest woman in the party. When they thought he’d been asleep the night before, one of them had called her Ioki. She towered over him on her horse. Only half of them were riding as they wormed their way through the forest on a game trail. “Antagonising us isn’t a good way to stay alive.” 

“Forgive me, I doubt that.” He tipped his head to the side, staring at her. “If you were going to kill me, you would have done so already. I am much more trouble this way.” 

Reaching out, she grabbed a handful of his braids and twisted, making his eyes water from pain, and he had to force himself to lean into it rather than pull away and make it worse. 

“That’s true. So maybe don’t make lugging your dead body around more attractive, huh?” She gave another tug, almost pulling him off balance. Settling back into the saddle, Logan fought the urge to shake his head. The last thing he needed was to lose his glasses. He doubted very much that they’d stop to pick them up for him. 

“Is this a now or later sort of choice?” he asked. “Or is it more of a hypothetical?” 

She glared at him, and he raised his eyebrows. The bland look would work better if his eyes weren’t still watering from pain. 

“I’m a naturally inquisitive person.” he said calmly. “I like to gather information.” 

“I know. You think that you’re sneaky, but you aren’t.” She pressed the side of her first finger to her lips, and exhaled. “Boy, you need to watch yourself if you want to live. I only have so much patience for this entire job.” 

“So what Count are you working for?” he inquired. 

“You’re not clever.”

“You’re not denying.” 

“I realise that you’re a sheltered little shit, so here’s some advice for your information gathering: the more you know, the less likely you are to get out alive. Secrets need keeping.” 

“My survival is suspect anyway.” He retorted. “I might as well satisfy my curiosity.” 

“Ioki!” one of the other women, slight with tight dark curls peering out of her hood.

“What is it?”

“I found Trevor.” 

“What happened to the asshole?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what does he have to say for himself?” 

“Not a lot, he’s dead. Something broke his neck and hauled him into a tree.” 

“Lead with that!” 

Logan looked down at his bound hands and tried not to smile. A riding crop smacked on his thigh and he yelped.

“What do you know?” Ioki demanded.

“I thought we’d established I didn’t know anything?” Logan inquired, staring down at his leg. The heavy fabric was intact, but the blow felt like it was bleeding regardless. He’d taken several hits like that in the last two days, always on clothed flesh. He very much hoped that he’d get a chance to hit her back. “If you want a guess as to what might do that, I do know that catamounts cache kills in trees, and have been known to kill by leaping on their prey’s shoulders.” 

“And you think that’s funny do you?”

“Miss Ioki, I think any violence done to my captors is hilarious. Objectively.” And he hooked his foot under hers and yanked sharply, taking advantage of his greater weight and her distraction to send her tumbling from the saddle. Phillip gave a hop and a kick at the unfamiliar motion as Logan nearly lurched out of his saddle in the other direction, accidentally kicking the woman’s horse as she fell. He clenched his legs as tightly as possible around the barrel of his horse’s body as Phillip leapt forward. Logan lunged forward to try and grab hold of the saddle instead of just being tied to it. Frantically he tried to get his boot back into the stirrup. 

Around him, Ioki’s fall had caused chaos. Someone screamed as a horse stepped on them. Managing to get his foot back into place, Logan jammed his heels into Phillip’s sides, making him leap forward, tearing his reins from the person who’s been holding them. The other horses were bigger, but Phillip was sturdier and he barreled straight ahead, forcing the horses off the trail- one mistepped and Logan saw it take a fall down the slope, screaming. Seeing his companion dashing away, Samson took a bite out of the arm of the man who was yanking at his reins and bolted after him. Logan started laughing hysterically and holding on for dear life, as branches whipped at him from both sides. 

He had not expected that level of chaos when he’d made up his mind to render himself momentarily obnoxious. He could hear Ioki’s voice yelling at her men to get up, to get after him. Logan did not anticipate this break for freedom to work, and knew he’d pay for it. But at that moment he didn’t care. He wished Remus could have seen it, he was sure he would have appreciated it. 

A branch smacked him firmly in the temple and he curled up, jounced back and forth by Phillip’s uneven gait. The smaller horses were moving through the forest with more ease than their larger brethren, but horses were not meant to run in forests, even deer didn’t run on game trails usually. Then suddenly the light burst into brilliance, and Logan looked up from his protective huddle.

He’d broken free of the woods, before him was a steep grade down to a series of rolling, smooth fields, as far as he could see, straight out to the horizon. Some rippled with grain, some had lower leafier crops, and a few were dotted with grazing animals. Occasional darker bands, hedges probably broke it up, but only barely. Logan’s mind boggled momentarily. He was sure fields this big would be unrealistic without modern farming equipment. Logan yanked hopefully at his bonds, but they remained firm, with no give he could wiggle out of. Behind him he heard shouts and crashes. They were going to catch up, and on plains like this, he had no chance of out running them. His stomach dropped. Perhaps he could dive back into the woods? Phillip snorted as Logan desperately tried to urge a different course than skirting the edge of the forest. It wasn’t much of a surprise, they were mostly trained to neck reins, and the reins were dangling haphazardly out of his reach. 

“Come on Phillip, come on.” he prodded. “I do not wish to be captured again.” Guiltily he noticed that there were scrapes across the horses shoulders, likely from the branches they’d collided with. Samson had gotten ahead of them and was eying the slope. “Go on go on.” Logan urged. “You can make it!” if Samson went, Phillip would follow, he knew. That was his chance. Then one of the bandits horses plunged out of the tree line ahead of them and Samson reared to a stop, lashing out but not connecting with the other horse. The rider looked pissed. Another horse pressed him towards the treeline and the rider swang down, recollecting Phillip’s reins, and hauling him around to face Ioki, who was back on her horse, and glaring at him, dirt marring her previously clean tunic and pants. 

“Surely you can’t blame me for trying.” Logan shrugged. She punched him in the face. As he reeled, she grasped him by the hair and hauled him off balance towards her face. 

“I surely can, pretty scholar.” she hissed. Logan gritted his teeth, tasting blood where he’d cut the inside of his mouth on his teeth. “So we’ll have to keep you busy until we get you where you’re going.” She yanked harder and he tumbled out of the saddle, arrested before he hit the ground by being tied to the saddle horn. His arms ached, but he got his feet under himself. “For now you’ve lost your riding privileges. Try to keep up.” 

She was right that walking beside Phillip instead of riding took most of the fight out of him. His arms burned from the uncomfortable position, and while the group was only moving at a walk now, they were moving relentlessly, not giving him a chance to catch his breath. If he strained he could lean most of his weight on Phillip, but that was hardly restful. He thought he might be able to get back into the saddle if he had a few moments- but that would probably only invite her to haul him out of it again. 

However as they plainly didn’t intend for him to get dragged to death - it did slow them down. And the slower they went, the more likely it was he’d be rescued. Logan hated having to just wait like some sort of damsel for help, but given his last attempt it might be better. 

As the sun went down, they had made camp. While the band had over taken them on the low road, they’d gotten right onto the high road when they crossed it. He’d hoped that they’d have to stay stealthy, after their march through the woods, but they had taken over one of the traveler’s way-stations like they belonged there. Logan had only been allowed a very brief period of time to stretch his arms out from the strain of the day, then provided with a bowl of food, extending the rest from being tied by only a few minutes. His arms were tied behind him now, and the rest tied to one of the beams of the shelter. A brief period of experimentation showed he had a small range of motion, enough to stand or to lie down. He explored the knot with his fingers, attempting to find an end, and could make no sense of it. There wasn’t enough slack for him to turn and look at it, and the position made it unlikely he could maneuver his legs through to put the knot in front of him. Especially given that he was being watched, especially when he moved. Sighing, he turned and leaned against the wall, pressing his face to it. The rough texture was uncomfortable, but it was cool against the bruise that was overtaking the side of his face. Ioki was a woman of average height, but she had muscles on her. He should probably stop goading her. 

In an attempt to soothe himself, he went over what he knew. There were less than a dozen bandits now, and most of them were exchanging their patched common garments for more respectable looking clothing. They still looked like fighters however, perhaps guards of militia members. Mercenaries, that was a possibility. But they had wanted to appear to be bandits when they attacked them. Two of them had taken a horse back to collect Trevor’s body, and the body of another of their number who had died in the mess in the woods. Logan wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Did that count as killing someone? Logan decided for now that it didn’t. It might feel different later, but for now, he didn’t think he could handle that. He’d handle it later, and part of him realised that he was hoping it would be with Remus’ arms around him, and the Duke’s vaguely nasally voice saying soothing but disturbing things to him. 

It was easier to picture that then it was to picture his apartment. He bit his lip, and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately calling up his coffee mug, Lyra’s face, the plant by the coffee station at work, the needlepoint cushion on his favorite chair at the Coffee and Tea Café- any detail he could think of from the real world. Instead of desperately listening for hints in the conversation around them, he tried to drown the world out, mentaly reciting his favorite songs. 

He was pulled out of it, quite literally by a yank to his hair. 

“I would very much appreciate it-” Logan growled, squinting “If you would stop touching my hair.” 

“Just trying to get your attention.” Ioki sat next to him, just barely in his view, making him have to shuffle around to look at her.

“Well, you have my attention now, Ma’am.” He gave a sarcastic seated bow. “How may I help you?” 

“I’ve been trying to figure you out. Your father brought you to Fire Mountain Lodge when you were just a child. You’ve never left, and suddenly you’re being shipped off to marry someone you’ve never met. Then you’re captured by bandits. You see your escort murdered. You should be terrified. And you aren’t.” 

“Sorry to disappoint.” Logan drawled. “But threats aside, you want me alive for some reason. Though clearly unharmed is not a stipulation, so I suppose I should be more cooperative.” 

“It would be different.” 

“Anything else you want to tell me about myself?” Logan asked wearily. “Just for context, of course. It’s certainly an experience to be so blandly reduced.” 

“Isn’t that what you scholars do? Reduce the world to lines on a page, neatly categorized and sanitized for the records. Turn people into numbers.”

“I don’t know if I agree with that last part.” Logan said. “Treating people as nothing but numbers is a good way to end up at war. But I suppose people only turn to banditry for money or politics.” He felt the cut on the inside of his mouth with his tongue, contemplating. Ioki’s skin was pale enough he could see a bruise forming where she’d fallen from the horse earlier. “So, which is it?” 

“We both know this isn’t banditry.” 

“Well you could be taking me off to sell me into slavery.” He offered. “I’m not intimately familiar with it, but I gather there is money in it. But it’s far more likely that I’m supposed to be some sort of political leverage.” He shook his head, between his braids being unbound and his loosened glasses frames- not to mention the growing darkness, seeing was hardly easy. “I hope for your sake it isn’t, because I doubt it’d do much good.” He saw a figure leading two horses enter the way station yard; probably the man who’d been sent after the bodies, caught up already. In the darkness someone helped him unload the bodies. They’d just have to be put back in the morning, but they could hardly leave the packs on the horses all night. 

“Don’t have much of an opinion of yourself do you?” Ioki snorted, letting him stare into the distance which was obscured by the fire outside the shelter. 

“On the contrary, I have a generally high opinion of myself, and it is well warranted. I’m intelligent, well read, capable in many fields, in good health and I gather, physically attractive to many people.” 

She laughed. 

“But truth be told, should I survive this misadventure, I will probably live my life out mostly alone, living in a series of small rooms, using knowledge that I only have experienced in abstract to help solve problems other people bring me.” 

“That sounds depressing as hell.” 

“It’s stable.” Logan shrugged. “It would involve very little being tied to horses or being punched in the face.” 

“Given the way you talk, I could almost imagine you like being punched in the face.” 

“Ah.” Logan settled back against the wall. “I just remembered who you remind me of. Unfortunate.” The fellow in question had been ahead of his time in the man-bun department, and had made Logan’s last year of highschool hellish. Even though the teachers had appreciated Logan’s intelligence, they’d never seemed to catch the bullies. It hadn’t even been a jock-nerd divide like the movies suggested, the authorities just didn’t seem to care what the students did to each other, as long as they didn’t personally see it. Dante had said his face just looked punchable as well. Logan wondered if it was childish of him to still harbor resentment from highschool at this point in his life. 

She snorted, not impressed. 

“Yeah, you’ve had a sheltered life.” 

“There’s nothing I can do about that. So, which is it, money or revolution?” he asked again. “It’s not as if I don’t see some flaws in the system, so I’m rather hoping it’s revolution.” 

“You see some problems in the system. From where you’re sitting.”

“I am sitting in the dirt, the same as you.” In the distance thunder rolled and Logan made a face. “For one thing the weight of the incumbent Counts and their families make it difficult to achieve change over if it’s necessary. While it is theoretically possible a candidate for either a Count or the Crown could be drawn from the common folk, it’s very unlikely. I have concerns about the voting system and how it’s handled in general.” He shrugged. “I’m not familiar enough with the workings of a Ride, but I suspect it could be easy enough to collect extra taxes for whatever reason. While sharing a structure, each Ride seems to have their own ideas how the structure could be… covered to use a metaphor. Each Ride was given the frame of a house, and then chooses what to build with from that point on.” 

“That’s an impressive list of theoretical points.” She said, settling back and picking up a mug of something she’d apparently been drinking when she came over to bother him. Ioki turned away from him, looking towards the east and the incoming storm. “And what do you think should be done about it?”

“I have no idea.” Logan shrugged. “A more robust education system for the lower classes? More frequent change over for the Counts, perhaps, since the most frequent reason is the death of a count.”

“Then you’re useless.”

“Untrue.” Logan said automatically. “Saying that someone is useless unless they have a solution to a problem is tantamount to saying that reform is impossible and useless, and it is not.” He stared at her over the edge of his slipping glasses. “You may be being paid, but you are in this for revolution. Idealism is grand, but ineffective.” 

She stared back, sipping at her drink. Around them, various members of the group of not-bandits settled into the shelter, some redressing their injuries.

“What.” he asked quietly, “Do  _ you  _ think should be done about it?” When she didn’t answer, Logan nodded acceptingly. “I thought as much.” he didn’t need to parrot back her statement. 

“You don’t get to sit there with your privilege and lecture me.” She snarled, getting to her feet. 

“You shouldn’t get mad at me simply because your idealism has holes.” He lifted his leg quickly, blocking the kick she aimed at his ribs with his thigh. He yelped in pain, regardless, but it was a safer place to take a blow. She stalked away, and Logan sighed, relaxing back against the wall, and watching the flickers of lightning as the storm moved closer. Wind blew across him and he shivered. 

The leading edge of the rain had arrived in a deluge, making the paddocked horses shift uncomfortably, while the bandits all shifted deeper into the lean to. They were mainly grouped on the far end from where Logan was tied. He wasn’t exactly sure if this ostracization was punishment or if it was just to keep him from gaining any allies. Logan personally didn’t think there was anything he could have said to turn anyone to his side. He supposed he might manage to seduce someone but doing so in what amounted to a single room with all of their friends also in the room seemed somewhat unlikely. Then, suddenly someone yelped 

“What the hell!” and chaos erupted. Logan came to his feet as best he could at the end of his rope, shifting back and forth, trying to figure out what was going on from the shouts. But the clouds had covered the moon and stars, and the rain had put the campfire out. There was very little light. Lightning flashed, and then something hit the boards next to Logan. He looked down and in the dim light he saw the gleam of a gemstone, set into a knife’s hilt. Remus’s long knife. He turned and grabbed it with his bound hands shifting the rope that held him in place and a quick jerk against the blade freed him from being tied to the wall. 

“Come on come on!” Laughed a familiar voice, and Logan could hear the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. “Doesn’t anyone want to surrender? I mean, I can kill you all, but the baby won’t like it!” 

Logan scraped the point of the knife against the small of his back and winced as he tried to get the edge against the rope that held his hands together- a difficult proposition with them still tied behind him. He thought his bindings were loosening when someone lunged out of the dark, colliding with him, and dragging them both to the ground. Logan desperately twisted the knife so he landed with the flat against himself instead of anything else. However, the impact snapped the frayed rope, as well as knocking the air out of his lungs. 

“You surrender!” Snarled his assailant, grabbing a hold of Logan’s hair, and trying to haul him to his knees. “Or I’ll kill the heir!” 

There was a pause and then a horrible ratcheting laugh. 

“Oh, you do not want to do that.” 

Logan got his knees under himself and tipped to the side, lashing out with one leg, only resulting in getting his assailant to fall on him again, releasing his hold on his hair. That done, he grappled, hooking his legs and a newly freed and incredibly sore arm around him. He could feel the muscles twitch. He jammed what he thought was the back of the blade up against the other man’s throat, and instead was overcome with a wave of hot liquid. Logan made a terrified noise and shoved the choking, bleeding man away from him, throwing himself back up against the wall, standing, knife held out in front of him. 

Lightning flashed, and Remus separated himself out of the group, dragging someone by their hair along the ground. He was wearing an unfamiliar enveloping cape, but the hood was down now. There was blood splashed across his face. 

“Last chance.” He said. “Surrender’s still on the table.”

“We outnumber you.” said one of them. “How ‘bout you surrender?”

“What are your terms?” grated out Remus’s prisoner- Ioki, Logan realised. Somewhere in the corner of his mind that wasn’t numb, past the bit that was screaming about the blood on his hands, Logan felt a twinge of satisfaction at the way Remus was hauling her about by her hair. 

“I’m feeling pretty generous. We take our stuff, we leave, you don’t follow and in fact, leave us the fuck alone from here on out.” 

“You’re going to ride out of here in this?” it sounded strained, and Remus wound his hand tighter in her hair, forcing a choked gasp of pain out of Ioki. 

“We could.” Logan managed to croak out, then coughed, forcing himself to breathe in and out slowly and trying to speak again “We could tie them up overnight. After all ‘one night isn’t going to do that much harm to him’.” 

“Issat so nerd?” Remus said fondly. He put out his hand, and accepted the bloody knife that Logan passed him without comment. “How are your fingers?”

“Getting less numb, thank you.” they were however, shaking quite badly and it only got worse- Remus knew which side of his knife was sharp, and pressed the back against Ioki’s throat. 

“So, how much does your crew like you?” he purred in her ear. “You’ll find me a lot harder to stop when you don’t catch me by surprise.” he laughed a little bit “I’ve had a hard couple days. I can go either way.” There was a silence long enough that lightning crashed again. “Weapons on the floor if you want to live. If you want her to live.” There was a pause, and knives and short swords hit the boards. “Isn’t it nice to be loved?” Cooed Remus, pressing his cheek against that of his captive. 

“Ugh, stop, it’s enough that you’ve beaten me, do you have to touch me?” she spat, trying to pull away. 

Logan’s hands were shaking, but he gathered up the weapons into the vellomonous cloak that Remus shrugged off, and rather than finding rope, unbuckled straps from the horse harnesses, which Remus used to tie his former captors up in a neat row. A quiet encouragement for them not to do anything hasty. There were six of them now, and three new dead bodies in the unfortunate pile. The makeshift bag of weapons occupied the other end of the lean to with Remus and Logan. 

Wind blew splatters of rain in through the openings at the top of the shelter, and dribbles ran down the walls, but it was carefully angled for the storms of the area, so the wind never blew the sheets of water that were coming down throughout the night onto its inhabitants. 

Despite Logan’s best intentions, he collapsed onto Remus. After Ioki’s band had been restrained, Remus had found a lantern amidst their goods. It had immediately started glowing with the same strange, intense slightly blueish light that the outdoor lamps in larger towns and the chandeliers in the Count’s manor. The light was unforgiving on the blood that was splashed and spread about. Logan had taken a look at himself and stepped out into the deluge. He hadn’t gotten far, a half a dozen steps towards the paddock, clutching at the backing to the firepit, and trying to decide if he was crying or not. When he decided he was not in fact crying, he’d stumbled back into the shelter, into Remus’s warm body, and he clung to him. Remus smelled terrible, like sweat and blood and a faint green undertone that might have been swampy water. Logan didn’t care. Remus was familiar, and protective, and willing to hold him, coaxing him out of his wet jacket and shirt and replacing them with a fresh shirt before wrapping him in a cloak and a blanket. Remus sat with his back against one wall, facing the prisoners, and Logan pressed his face to the sweat- stained shirt visible beneath the other man’s coat, arms wrapped around his waist. He stroked a hand over Logan’s hair, his back, mumbling something soft and unintelligible and soothing. 

“My apologies.” Logan choked out after an indeterminable amount of time. “You- you should be resting. You must be exhausted.” 

“I’m good for now.” Remus assured him. “I’m resting, off my feet and everything.” 

“That’s not the same thing, I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through.”

“You never could.” Remus said cheekily, and rubbed his fingers gently at the base of Logan’s neck. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. It’ll be okay.” 

“Falsehood.” Logan choked and didn’t speak for a long moment, until he thought he could speak clearly. “There is no way you are not injured, and I think I may be in shock, not to mention our current situation.” 

“We’re almost there. Don’t worry.” He moved his hand to rub between Logan’s shoulder blades. “We’ll find a town and get you cleaned up and it’ll be fine.”

“I killed a man.” Logan’s voice was small. “I do not think I will be fine ever again.” 

“He woulda done the same to you. I’m so proud of you honeytrap. You fought so hard, so clever. You did good. You should be as proud of yourself as I am.” He leaned down, murmuring so softly it was barely intelligible. “It’s okay, nerd. They’re fictional.”

For some reason, that drove Logan over the edge again, and he dissolved into hysterics, a jaggad, seesawing laugh bubbling out of him no matter how hard he tried to choke it back. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep. Logan supposed he must have passed out at some point. As he started to wake up, he frantically grabbed around him, looking for a point of connection, not finding it, he shot upright, staring frantically around a blurry world. He heard a sound like a laugh, and pressed up against the wall.

“Don’t be an asshole.” That was Remus’s voice, and then there he was. “Hey, fixed your glasses.” Logan accepted them gratefully, putting the world back into focus. His hand still latched onto the front of Remus’s shirt. Remus patted his hand, and Logan looked past to see the row of fake bandits, still tied to the wall with their reins. He exhaled slowly. “Atta boy.” Remus said encouragingly, and offered a steaming mug. After a moment Logan wrapped his hands around it instead. The thick, sweet coffee was incredibly grounding, and Logan managed to separate himself from the overwhelming panic that had come back to him when he awoke. 

“Thank you.” He said simply, and Remus grinned at him and cupped his face for a moment fondly. 

“Thank you.” the Duke responded. “You did good for a sheltered boy.”

“Some day, you must tell me how you survived.” Logan managed. 

“My balls are too big for a little thing like a fall to kill me.” Remus grinned. “Sides, I had to get you back, right?” 

“Can you two stop flirting and get on with this?” Ioki called from the other end of the shelter. “The heir made his fucking point here.” 

“Did I though?” Logan said sharply. “I must admit I feel I’m still owed a few hits.” 

“You killed my men.” Ioki retorted. 

Logan shuddered. 

“Kidnappers and bandits.” Remus retorted, standing up and cracking his neck. “If I hadn’t accepted your surrender, I could kill you all and no one would think less of me.” he gave a bark of a laugh. “You know, no one knows-” 

“Remus, don’t terrorise the prisoners.” Logan snapped, and took a deep gulp of the coffee, standing up and ignoring the stains on his pants. “We’re not killing them, and we’re not taking their belongings. We’re going to go one way, and they’re going to go the other, dealing with their dead.”

“Are you sure?” Remus asked, turning to Logan but looking over his shoulder. “We could be labeled murderers if they spin their story right. Better to only leave one side of the story.” His eyes were red at the edges, and slightly bloodshot, Logan realised, sunk deep into the bags that surrounded them. Several large scratches crossed his face, as well as visible on his forearms where his shirt sleeves were rolled up. There were also several cuts to his left leg, skin bare under the ruined leather, and only one showed a bandage underneath it. 

“Yes.” Logan nodded. “Let’s go.” 

It didn’t take long to separate out Phillip and Samson from the paddock, and to resaddle them. Samson actually affectionately headbutted Remus when he saw him, and Remus took the time to scratch his itches. Their saddlebags were mostly intact, thankfully. Logan suspected that Remus may have taken more coin from the saddle bags then had been removed from theirs, but decided not to say anything. They briefly and quietly conferred over the map. The nearest large town was most of a day away. But it would be just as likely that Ioki’s band would head there as well. Most of them looked as bad off as Remus, and no one was unmarked. Even though they’d won the night before, sort of, Logan couldn’t help but worry that they would be overtaken again. 

“You don’t have to worry.” Ioki said as Logan loosened one of the straps on her wrist. Not enough to free her, but enough she’d be able to pull free with a bit of effort. “I never want to see you again, and it sickens me that I probably will, though in different circumstances.” 

Logan quietly compared the rope burn on his wrist with the dent from the leather on hers. 

“Do you have something to actually say?” he said calmly. 

“Would you be a Count or Crown?” she asked. 

He jerked back, and stared at her. 

“Neither.” Logan said with feeling. Even if this was his world, his life, he would have no interest in ruling it in any degree. 

She barked out a laugh. 

“You know what? I believe you. This plot isn’t yours. Stick with your savage escort.” she advised. “Steer clear of politics.” She lifted a foot and knocked him over with a kick to the gut. “You’re too soft.” Ioki jumped as Remus’s mace came down just shy of her knee, splintering the floorboard beneath it. 

“Now that wasn’t very peaceful like.” He cooed, one hand extended behind him to help Logan up. Logan rose without the aid. 

“She’s just being petty.” Logan said calmly. “It barely hurt. If she’d wanted to hurt me, she would have gone for my knees. Let’s just go.” He put his hands on Remus’s shoulders and steered him towards their horses. 

“Soft!” she called at his back, and Logan gave in to the urge to flip her off, and hope it meant the same thing here. From the mostly amused laughter, he assumed it did. 

They’d been on the road for an hour when Remus slumped in his saddle. Logan managed to get Phillip to move next to him and reached out an arm to steady Remus. 

“I’m surprised you lasted this long.” Logan dismounted. “Your adrenaline crash must be incredible at this point.”

“What’re you doing, we can’t stop.” Remus said blurrily. 

“I know. I am adequate, I slept last night, and I don’t think you did.”

“You passed the fuck out.” Remus corrected. “Shock.” 

“Pedantic.” Logan dismissed, shifting the saddlebags to Phillip’s back. He eyed Samson with a certain level of caution, as the horse had proven to be less placid than he’d previously thought. Samson had always put up with Remus’s shenanigans in the saddle with grace, but had made himself a regular nuisance to the bandits after they’d been captured. Samson eyed Logan back with no apparent emotion. Well, perhaps the gelding just had taste. With a grunt, Logan hauled himself up into the saddle behind Remus. “My body rested. Yours did not, and your wounds have not been well tended.” He wrapped one arm around the other man, covering his hand where it was holding the reins. “Rest against me. It may take a little longer, but we’re heading to that town over the border in Forester’s Ride. As long as we get there first, our story of being attacked by bandits will supersede any fabrication they might have.” 

“Lookit you taking charge.” Remus gave a short bark of laughter, but then settled limply back against Logan. “Treat me sweet, I’m delicate.” he tipped his head back on Logan’s shoulder and fluttered his eyelashes. 

“You’re as delicate as hard wood.”

“My wood is hard from your manly resolve.” 

Logan made a noise of disgust, which only made Remus give another weak laugh and they continued down the road.

It was well after dark when they entered the Town of Barenpine. Logan was able to find the inn, a large wooden building just off the highroad. Remus was pretty much unconscious, and his wounded state was conspicuous, made more so by his doing his best to snarl at anyone other than Logan that came close. Even though Remus had always handled arrangements before this, Logan did get them situated in a room, with food and hot water. He would have rather visited their bathhouse, but he wasn’t ready to leave Remus just yet. His resolve strengthened when his companion wasn’t even conscious enough to make dirty jokes as he wrestled him out of his filthy clothes. 

If he had been a religious man he probably would have given some sort of thanks for the fact that once cleaned, the wounds were much shallower than he’d feared. It looked far worse than it was. It didn’t look like they needed more than cleaning and covering, though some of the earlier ones had red puffy edges that spoke of possible infection. It would be better to get Remus properly washed, and perhaps soaked if clean water could be arranged. He wouldn’t be able to trust local remedies without Remus’s knowledge, so he would have to depend on just proper hygiene and Remus’s normal good health. That done, he took time to clean the abrasions he’d acquired in being tied with rough hemp for three days. Logan looked at his wrists with distaste though the wounds really were nothing compared to the deep gashes and scratches Remus sported. Even the bruises he’d acquired seemed less severe, though the ones given by Ioki’s crop had disturbing lighter patches at the center, and the skin was hot and tight. 

Suddenly a hand rested on the small of his bare back and he stiffened, looking over. 

Remus had woken. 

“You should keep sleeping.”

“W’re are we?” 

“We’re at Trader’s Rest, the inn at Barenpine.” He turned so he was facing Remus instead. “You were fairly incoherent for a while there.” 

“W’s it any good?” he asked, blinking slowly. Logan just stared for a moment then burst out laughing.

“Remus, heroic or not, I am not interested in somnophilia. You’re naked because I was tending your wounds.” 

“Darn.” 

Logan laughed even harder, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Well you did get my hands all over you, if that makes you feel any better.” 

“I’d’ve rather been awake for it.” 

Logan shook his head, managing to stop his laughter. 

“Still, I’m glad you’re awake.” With a bit of effort he got Remus propped on the meager pillows the room provided. “I think we’ll both feel better if you get some food in you, and you woke before it got too cold.” Instead of the stew that the majority of the inn’s had featured, Trader’s rest had offered a few options, and Logan had picked the onion soup and roasted chicken, onions being rich in vitamin C, which was reportedly good for staving off infection. 

Logan watched Remus eat, tearing off pieces of bread and letting it absorb the thinner broth, rather than using a spoon to disguise the fact that his hands were trembling a bit. He reached out and ran his fingers through Remus’s hair, pushing it back. The small strip of grey hairs had grown to a full patch. 

“What did you do?”

Remus brought the entire bowl up to his mouth and drank down the soup, only spilling a little. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

“A bit of healing to keep me going.”

“I never asked, other than this,” Logan combed his hand through the hair again. “What’s the cost of your magic?” 

“Fuck you got me.” Remus sighed after a long pause. “I am too fucking tired to come up with a good lie. It’s ...energy, see? Just like running or anything else.” 

“Energy can not be created or destroyed, only transmuted from state to state.” Logan said thoughtfully. “So…” He handed Remus his bowl of soup which he’d barely gotten started on. “Eat. I’m surprised you’re conscious at this point. The amount of energy you’ve used over the last few days, you must be starving.” 

Remus looked like he might object, but took it, as well as more bread. While he treated it the same as the first, Logan cut the meat off the chicken bones, making small bite sized pieces, some of which he ate, but the majority got piled to the side of the platter. He was paused by Remus reaching out and taking his hand, turning it back and forth- Logan realised he was looking at the rope burn, as Logan hadn’t bandaged his left, dominant wrist. 

“It could be a lot worse.” Logan said quietly. 

“There's some bruising under it.” Remus yawned. “If you’ve got my bags, there’s a jar of ointment in with my cleaning stuff. It’s for wounds.”

“I would have appreciated knowing that before finishing with you.”

“I’ll get it tomorrow. You get this one.” 

“Remus.” Logan said seriously. “You need to stop treating me so delicately.”

“I can’t help it.” He retorted, but let go of Logan’s arm and started eating bits of chicken from the platter. “You’re just so lost sometimes. Makes me feel all protective.” 

“And I appreciate it, mostly. Sometimes you come off as a bit patronising. But it feels as though you’re prioritizing my health and well being over yours, and I find that unexceptable.” 

“Aw, you like me.” Remus wrinkled his nose with amusement. 

“I could say the same.” Logan replied dryly. He pressed a tankard into Remus’s hands. “Drink up, I doubt this sudden bout of wakefulness will last, given the situation. You should rest, and recover.”

“I’m serious about the ointment, specs.” Remus said, after downing the ale. “I’ve got scars, and I’m only gonna get more, but if that scars? On you?” he gave a short cackle. “You’re going to get a reputation as a kinky bastard at best.” He ate a little more then blinked a few times. “Come to bed when you’re done, okay? I could use a heater.” He slid down off the pillows, throwing them this way and that on the bed until he was comfortable. 

“You’re an idiot.” Logan sighed, and tossed a pillow onto Remus’s face. Remus laughed at that, chuckles fading as he fell back asleep. 

Logan woke to the feel of someone messing with something around his wrist. He kicked out and shoved away as hard as he could away from the warmth he’d woken up against. He hit the cold wall behind him before his eyes were open all the way. 

“Aieecccc.” the yelp was strangled, and garbled oddly. 

Now awake, Logan saw what had been around his wrist was a bandage, the poorly tied one on his dominant hand, trailing off. On the other side of the bed, Remus was curled up and coughing. 

“Fuckin’ hell specs.” he coughed. “I got it, I got it, no more babyin’” 

Logan felt quite abashed. 

“Did I hit you in-”

“Right in the gemhouse.” Remus agreed, though his voice was evening out. “ _ Really _ not how I wanted you to touch it.” 

Logan sighed, exasperated and amused, leaning behind Remus to retrieve his glasses,.

“A good night’s sleep seems to have restored you admirably. Another good meal and another days rest, and we’ll be ready to continue.” He was not expecting Remus to roll over, pinning him to the mattress. 

“I see you got everything planned out.”

“That was another swift recovery.” Logan said blandly. 

“Got a plan how you’re gonna keep me in bed?” He asked, the line of his body pressed against Logan’s from leg to chest. 

“Well, first I’m going to ask you to take your hands off my wrists, as they still hurt.” 

As Logan suspected, that made Remus sit up, leaving only a leg sprawled out over Logan’s lap, which it was easy enough to escape from. He tugged at the bandages, and Remus offered his hands to help tie. After a moment, Logan allowed it, though the feel of someone else’s hand combined with the tugging at his wrist was disconcerting. He huffed, annoyed. 

“What’s a’matter, honeytrap?” Remus asked, blanket pooled enough around him for a semblance of decency, though his bandaged leg peeked out. 

“I’m traumatized.” Logan said blandly. “I am experiencing reactions from what I went through, and it is… difficult.” He exhaled slowly. “Normally, I would seek counseling, but even when I return home, I’ll be unable to. Because- it’s  _ fictional _ .” a hysterical giggle leaked out. He covered his face with his hands, suddenly overcome with emotion. “I’m sorry, give me a moment-” 

“Shhh no, it’s okay, shhh.” Remus said soothingly. “Can I touch you, no dirty stuff, I promise.” Logan nodded, without uncovering his face, and Remus drew him into a hug, as he promised, there was no hint of lecherous intention, as there had been minutes before. Just warm arms holding Logan soothingly, and a hand rubbing circles on his back. 

“It’s not okay.” Logan shuddered, pressing his forehead to Remus’s shoulder. “I don’t know how I will be able to  _ function _ .” 

“Wish I had an answer for you. I ain’t a great person to talk to about that. I’m just a bunch of trauma and instincts in a fancy suit most days. It’s all bouncing against itself and I just move forward.”

“You should also be in therapy.” Logan forced himself to take a breath, hold it for a few seconds and let it out slowly. He let the soothing posture of behind held and comforted work. Distressing. He’d gotten so used to being touched these last few weeks. 

“Tell you what, when I get back to Sanders, I know a guy. If you want, he can make it so you don’t remember anything. Just like a bad dream. Would that be better?”

“I think… I think that would be the opposite of better, actually.” Logan continued his purposeful breathing for a few minutes more, then sat up, pulling away. “If you’re feeling up to it, we should visit the bathhouse, keeping the wounds clean will avert infection.”

“Oh, I’m always up for it.” Remus smirked. 

Logan didn’t feel particularly bad about pressing down hard enough on one of the bandages to make Remus yelp. Honestly, the man had no sense of timing at all. 

He felt much more himself- the physical and emotional instability pushed back- after the hot bath. It wasn’t as nice as the one at Blue Wells, but they had private tubs, so Logan’s concerns about wound contamination from used water were unfounded. Wounds rebandaged- this time with Remus’s ointment, which smelled more of cloves and bees wax than goose fat, thank Hygiena and Hippocrates, they ventured down to the main room of the inn. 

Instead of wearing their second, fancier suits- their traveling gear being in no condition to be worn, and still off being washed by the inn staff- they’d compromised with not wearing the jackets- a trifle informal, but not unheard of. At very least no one stared. 

Outside the unshuttered windows, the world was greyed out and a steady shush of rain came down. Scattered at tables throughout the room, travelers discussed if they would be moving on given the weather. Given they were not the only ones in casual attire, Logan guessed that many would be waiting out the rain. Both Remus and Logan gave the room a good looking over as they sat, making sure Ioki and her band hadn’t come in, a complication neither of them wished to deal with. But the room was clear, and in short order, they had food in front of them. 

Logan wasn’t particularly surprised to see Remus’s appetite was even more enthusiastic than usual, and given his new knowledge, he wondered if that was more than just metabolism. Well, given everything else, perhaps not entirely metabolism. Idly he wondered if part of being suited to using magic would be a metabolism that produced energy at a more efficient rate than other people. 

Eventually, some of the travelers left, and others retired out to the porch-like walkway between the stables and the inn to enjoy the breeze and perhaps smoke pipes. Others produced games, and settled in for a day of rest. Logan lingered over the coffee, which was thin and bitter, staring thoughtfully out of the window. Eventually, Remus waved a hand in front of his face, catching his attention. 

“What’s going on in there?” he asked. 

“I feel I’m missing a part of the puzzle.” 

Outside, a horse came up, and the rider dismounted, taking the strangely small saddle bag, and heading through the inn’s main door. The innkeeper greeted them, pulling out a box and setting it on the counter. Being more interesting than the rain on the cobbled streets of Barenpine, and closer than the woodshop he could see on the other side of the town square, Logan watched with interest, as the innkeeper exchanged folded missives with the rider. Presumably this was either a courier or a mailman, if the offices were different here. They were too far away to catch the conversation, but suddenly the innkeeper stopped in the easy conversation, cocking his head, and making a gesture that almost certainly meant ‘repeat that’. As the courier did, the innkeeper pointed over at their table. Logan immediately went still, as both the courier and the innkeeper both came over. 

“Pardon- You are Logan Teach? The Heir of Fire Mountain Lodge?” 

“Yes?” Logan asked in that slightly suspicious way he’d taken to. Honestly being addressed as the heir only brought trouble. 

“Thank the Coils.” the courier said, shocked, covering their mouth. 

“Yloies was just saying that they had had word that you had been captured by bandits.” 

Logan and Remus looked at eachother, then back to the innkeeper. 

“I was. My escort rescued me, hence our state when we arrived.” Logan said. 

“ _ Who _ had word?” Remus asked 

“It was being sent to Green Moor Seat to keep an eye out for you.” the courier said.

They exchanged another look. Logan had only been captured for three days, at a generous guess, and neither Remus nor Logan’s captors had any contact with anyone that would spread that gossip further. 

“You do have the look of Count Algernon,” the courier said. “But… do you have proof?” 

Logan sighed. 

“I have a seal ring in my luggage, if that would corroborate.” He pushed his chair away from the table. “Or I should, if the bandits didn’t take it. I’ll be right back.” The seal ring had been amongst the jewelry in his garments. But his captors hadn’t been very interested in pawing through their belongings, just in taking Logan somewhere as fast as they could. He waved a hand at Remus. 

“Stay here.” 

He could hear Remus’s cheerful voice start asking further questions as he headed up the stairs. 

The small bag of jewelry was still mixed in with his toiletries, and it only took a moment to fish out the signet ring he’d noticed. It had matched a stamp in the front of the journal, so presumably it meant something. Logan contemplated the pen case which had included a pot of pigment he had been unable to identify until he considered it in context with a seal stamp. He’d initially thought it was some sort of misplaced cosmetic, or perhaps a colored ink concentrate. Remus had explained what it was, and fished a ring on a chain out of his pouch, and showed Logan how it worked. Logan wondered if Remus was always so helpful, or he was special, somehow. How a seal ink worked was a world of difference from how to saddle a horse, or how manners worked in a primitive setting, or even how to throw a weapon. 

No matter how unrealistic it was, it felt as though he had taken someone’s place, rather than having the place be open and waiting for him. Therefore, it would only be polite to leave a record of what had happened while he was in place. Logan had been jotting down events as they happened in the journal. He picked up the journal and pen case and brought it down. The light was much better in the main room, and he would be able to pass some time recording the kidnapping after they figured out what was going on. 

Given how Remus’s hands were flashing about as he talked, he was plainly telling a story of some sort.

“I hope you’re not telling these people how you survived.” Logan said as he sat back down. The courier jerked slightly as though they wanted to stand as he sat and he just raised an eyebrow, before focusing on Remus again, staring at him with a strange intensity. “Especially since you haven’t told me how you managed yet.”

Remus laughed.

“You’re good, I was just talking about the fight, I hadn’t even gotten to the climax.”

“Well wait a moment.” Logan opened the case and slid the ring off his finger- the easiest way to carry a ring that fit. As Remus had instructed him he imprinted the ink to the center of his palm- Remus had been very firm about that, something about tradition- if he wasn’t sealing or signing something, he shouldn’t put the seal to paper. If he was practicing or displaying the imprint, it went on skin. He held out his palm, and from the looks on their faces, this strange little ceremony was perfectly normal. He found the crimson mark on his palm kind of garish and unsettling, personally. “Is this satisfactory?” he asked. The courier gently took his hand and stared at the mark for a long moment but then nodded. 

“I am so relieved!” They sighed. “I served your father as a personal courier when I was young. I even accompanied him and yourself, I suppose,” there was a weak laugh “When he retired to Fire Mountain Lodge. Though I remained in service to Green Moor Ride, in the end.” 

“That’s a long time to hold an attachment.” Logan said awkwardly. 

“Algernon Teach was a good man.” Realising they were still holding Logan’s hand, they let go. “My name is Yloies Fox. Though I suppose it has been almost two decades now, and you were barely weaned. You wouldn’t remember me. Still, my heart is gladdened you escaped the capture. Your father clearly picked an incredible escort.” Yloies gave Remus an odd, but appreciative look. 

Remus preened a little on the other side of the table. 

“Hey!” called someone from another table. “I wanna hear what happened next!” 

Logan stared over and the traveler grinned unapologetically. 

“What, it sounded like he was just getting to the good part.” Outside the rain had gotten harder, driving people back into the common room. A stout woman came out of the back to act as bartender, dispensing ale, teas and coffee. 

“Very well,” He gestured at Remus “You’re the morning’s entertainment it seems. Have at.” he took the pen from the case and checked it over, before opening the journal. 

“I was just getting to the part where we realised we were in trouble.” Remus resumed his story. 

Logan carefully wrote down a basic description of the fight- as he had a few qualifiers to throw into Remus’s story. However, when it got to the point where they had managed to get ahold of Remus and throw him over the railing of the post and beam bridge they had been cornered on, Logan could only listen with everyone else. He did notice that Remus didn’t mention magic, just luck, which had him colliding with a tree that had grown out of the cliff below the bridge, and a plunge into the icy river that swept through the bottom of the ravine. The river has swept Remus down river for what might have been miles before he made his way to the shore and managed to crawl his way out. At that point he had to track them down. 

And that, Remus declared is whe he’d gotten really lucky as the bandits weren’t really trying to hide at that point, and hadn’t left the road they’d ambushed them on yet. He managed to find the band and pick up their trail by the morning, when he’d found where they’d camped, and from there, all he had to do was keep following. 

Humans, Remus told his audience would always outlast horses if they were stubborn enough. Horses were sprinting animals, generally speaking, and humans were endurance hunters. They might have gotten further away, but decided to dip into the woods, which slowed them down. By the second night, he was close enough to pick off the night watch, but didn’t think he’d be able to get Logan free, following at a distance. He, unlike Logan, had managed to pick up that only half the group was used to working with each other , the others having been hired to raise their numbers. 

Remus then asked what had happened with the chaos midday, since he’d been too far away to hear it, but had heard some screams bouncing through the woods. Uncertainly, Logan explained what he’d done, and got to watch Remus light up in glee.

“I’m so proud of you!” he squeaked as though the entire room wasn’t watching and listening. Logan coughed, and shoved the narrative ball back to Remus’s adventures. Rounding it back to how he’d managed to get them all to surrender had people cheering. Perhaps it would seem less… bloody in time, but Logan had a hard time feeling pleased about it, even though it had won their freedom. He noticed that Remus skipped over his mild breakdown to their arrival at Trader’s Rest. Their audience bought them more drinks than they could or should drink for the entertainment of the story. 

Logan bullet pointed down the most important parts of Remus’s story, and then went on to record what happened to him, as calmly and blandly as possible. It took longer than he thought it should, but somehow, once it was all on paper, it didn’t weigh him down as hard. 

As the ink dried on the page, he stared at the sentence describing the death of the man he’d killed, letting the words sink in and settle over the images he caught in the lighting flashes, and the sensation of the warmth of the blood. He took a deep breath, let it out, and let it go.

The ink was dry.

He turned the page. 

The rain continued conveniently for two days. Remus recovered with a speed that Logan looked at suspiciously, though the Duke promised that he hadn’t used any more magic, he was just a healthy sort of person. When Yloeis, the courier, had left, they had left with a note from Logan, a reassurement for the Count of Green Moor Ride that he was no longer captured, and was back en route and should be arriving soon. When they awoke on the third day the skies were blue and bright, and they rode back over the border to Green Moor Ride. 

No longer surrounded by other people, Logan could finally vent about a fact that he had discovered. 

Logan Teach, the role he was supplied with, was nineteen years old, a full ten years younger than Logan himself. 

Remus was of no help, just laughing at Logan’s annoyance, and occasionally making cradle robbing jokes. 

“I’m not just in a novel, I’m in a  _ young adult _ novel.” Logan grumbled. “Though it does explain a few things I suppose.” They had passed into the range of the large fields, and staring into the distance went a great deal further than it had previously. 

“You done?” Remus asked after a while. 

“Yes.”

“Can we talk about the real issue?”

“That someone in the Seat is most likely responsible for my abduction?”

“That’s the dingus.” Remus nodded. “I don’t care for ambushes, and I don’t fancy walking into another one.”

“Neither do I, but I am unsure what we can do to prevent it.”

“Well,” Remus chewed on his thumbnail thoughtfully. “We probably aren’t at risk for another kidnapping. Murder attempt maybe, when we get to the seat, makin’ it look like a robbery gone wrong.” 

“You’re probably right, if they want me out of the way, rather than to use me for leverage.” 

“Do you think they want you and the heir of Green Moor to be put up for a candidate for the Crown, when the Council is called, or that they’re lookin’ to put the current Count of Green Moor up, and want to you replace ‘em?”

“That’s certainly a jump.” Logan protested. “Given that I haven’t even met any of the candidates for my future spouse. Besides, the new Count would be elected by the Ride.”

“Yeah, but the Heir is put up as the first candidate, you know they ain’t likely to put up anyone against whoever the last Count put up without a reason. And it sounds like your old man, the count that was was a popular count. So having you, his son, would make it a stronger bid.” 

“I don’t know why I keep being surprised by your political-social acumen.” Logan laughed.

"Yeah, cuz you're normally real smart too." Remus grinned at him.

“Alas.” Logan said at a deadpan. “I am deceived by your all too convincing act of complete idiocy. But still, general intelligence doesn’t mean you know anything about this world.”

“No, but I did read that whole history book while we were laid up.”

“That’s fair I suppose. I probably should have spent more time doing that, rather than trying to make sense of a fantastical form of calculus.”

“Hey, you may get more use outta weird fancy math than politics for a fantasy world.” 

“It’s just so close to what I know!” Logan grumbled. “It  _ almost  _ makes sense. Physics is physics! Math is math!” 

Remus started laughing again. 

“Wait, no,” Logan got a hold of himself. “If someone from the seat is responsible, then why send out a message stating I’d been captured?” 

“Because they want to shift the blame to someone else. Those dumbasses weren’t just going, they were going somewhere specific.” 

“And if I was found there, it would make it suspicious. Do you think knowing who they were trying to frame would help anything?”

“Eh, maybe?” Remus scratched his chin thoughtfully, smoothing his mustache. “More so if we knew the people involved. I mean, if they were cuttin’ a corner to bring you to the next Ride over, that doesn’t mean anything to us unless we know why Green Moor has a beef with them.” 

“Mnn. True.” Logan sighed. 

“So for now, we get you to Green Moor Seat alive and well, and go from there.” 

They stuck to the highroad now. Getting off of it when the high road led directly to the Ride’s seat would be ridiculous, and there were plenty of towns along it they could find lodgings at. It was strange that so close to their goal things became so relaxed and repetitive, even as Logan became more and more anxious. Even aside for the possiblity of an assassination atempt, the closer they got to the goal the less time they had to figure out what the story wanted out of them. If they couldn’t figure that out, Remus was certain that the tangle trap wouldn’t release them. Logan very much wanted that to happen before he went through a fictional marriage night. 

Green Moor seemed to be another agricultural focused Ride, the rolling fertile ground suitable for raising an assortment of crops, balanced out with wooly cattle and other livestock. Genuinely wooly, as Logan saw them being sheared like a sheep, and a day or so after that, a cart loaded like a hay rick full of the fleece, heading somewhere. Much like the fields, Logan’s mind boggled at the work getting done without modern machinery. But he supposed they had mills, they’d even stayed in a few towns called ‘Milford’ and variations there of, so there might be more machinery at play in the textile industry than he thought. Not much for the agricultural side, as things were powered by animals, but Logan could admit that he didn’t actually know much about how that worked. Perhaps he was arrogantly assuming the amount one could plow in one day without a mechanical tractor was smaller than it was? He asked Remus who admitted that he didn’t really know anything about it either. 

“I know that it happens, and the shape of the stuff they use to do it? But farming’s not something I’ve ever really paid attention to honestly. Far as I’m concerned, it’s kinda magic. They do a series of rituals in fields and boom! Foodstuff comes out.” He paused thoughtfully “Like- coffee. Coffee is fuckin’ berries! I thought they were legumes! They call them beans, right?”

Logan was startled into a short burst laughter. 

“Well, using the nomlecture to tell what part of a plant actually is or is used is not the most accurate thing.”

“True. People say some wild shit.” They shifted to the side of the road as another cart full of fleece went past, followed by a harried looking group of pre-teens herding a flock of young cattle. 

“Oh wonderful, traffic.” Logan sighed, as they came to a crossroads. It wasn’t a lot, another flock or two and a few more wagons, including one that carried a load of barrels. 

“Did you just not get enough coffee this morning, or what?” Remus asked, sounding more amused than annoyed. 

“As much as I enjoy coffee.” Logan said, as they waited for a loaded wagon to turn onto the highroad “Caffeine does not actually cure exhaustion. All that particular drug does is increase one’s apparent energy levels, which gives the appearance of alertness or sobriety.” 

“Huh, really?” 

“Yes. It’s also addictive. Not tobacco levels, or even some narcotics, but once one gets used to the affect it can become hard to function without it.”

“And here I thought all it did was stunt your growth, which it certainly didn’t do with you. But if all not getting coffee does is make you grouchy, I’m sticking with my question.”

“No, my mood has more to do with impending unknown factors and the change in what I perceived as routine. We’ve seen more fellow travelers today than we had in a week earlier in our journey.” 

“This seems about right for getting nearer to a craft hub or capital. Just think about Lockbridge Seat.”

“I try not to.”

“Aw, but you’ve got an admirer back there.” Remus teased. 

“You’ve had your share, what about that blacksmith who offered to take you home and feed you up, back in oh where was it?” he snapped his fingers a few times. “Slatecliff, that’s it. A respectable sort of spouse they could have been. Arms the size of your thigh.”

Remus topped his head in acknowledgement and compilation. 

“We could have been gettin’ it.” 

“I can always ‘get it’” Logan retorted primly. “If I wanted ‘it’ and if by ‘it’ you mean sexual intercourse.” 

“You certainly could.” Remus flirted. 

Logan waved it off. Then he called to one of the young shepards. 

“Pardon, where are you headed?” 

“S’ the summer shearing festival in Beryie.” she returned. “Not where you’re headed, Sir?”

“It is now!” Remus said cheerfully. “That sounds like a hoot.” 

“It is!” the shepard grinned. “It’s only the second year I’ve gotten to go, and it sure is something!” One of her fellow shepards laughed at her enthusiasm, and they let the flock go ahead of them, resigned to an amble for the rest of the afternoon. At least they weren’t walking on foot, as following a herd of cattle gave the road a certain… quality. 

The market square at Beryie was being decorated, the town common and fields outside were being divided into pens for livestock, and there was a great deal of noise. It certainly looked like a festival was about to, or currently taking place. In this case, it paid to be a little fancy, because of all of the common rooms were filled, and some were being asked to share. The most expensive room was however still available, and the dusk found them settling into a plush little room that over looked the town common with a miniscule but present balcony. It was practically a suite, though there was no bathroom, and the inn keeper an effusive man named Salta recommended that they get to the town baths first thing in the morning, rather than the evening, as most of the drovers liked to bathe and get prettied up as soon as they got in, and it would be crowded, and the water wouldn’t be at it’s cleanest. 

The festival itself would start the next day, officially, though a dance would be taking place in the town square that evening- there’d be dancing every night of the four day festival. 

Frankly, Logan was more than willing to give the entire thing a pass. Unfortunately, Remus did not share his disinterest. Logan found himself being pulled through the stalls on the common, the smell of alcohol and hot fat in the air. It certainly smelled like an agricultural fair. His school had arranged a trip to one as a ‘back to school treat’ and while it was interesting, he hardly would have called it a ‘treat’.

The music playing in the background was nice. Logan hadn’t realised how much ‘background music’ appeared in real life. In any given store, there would be music playing softly. When one was outside, it was likely to hear music spilling from someone’s house, or car, or sometimes even headphones. However, here music was a thing that had to be specifically created; something that someone was doing. Logan had always had an appreciation of live music, but he thought he might appreciate recorded more from now on. 

Remus was having a ball of a time, dragging Logan from booth to booth, looking at what was being offered. It was very agricultural, and very much in the theme of well, wool. At first he wasn’t particularly interested, but at prodding from Remus and the booth owners, Logan curiously touched carded samples of various qualities of wool, looked at shears of various styles, sniffed soaps and tasted cheese. 

He watched in fascination for far too long as someone held a conversation as they twirled a device that looked like a large top, turning a cloud of fleece into a string as he watched. Now that he was looking he saw them everywhere, of varying sizes, creating varying thicknesses from yarn to thread. In one booth there were two older women, one of which was knitting at terrifying speed, and the other was operating what Logan recognised (admittedly from fairy tales) as a spinning wheel. Curiously he recognised the tek-tek-tek of the spinning wheel matched the music he could hear drifting over from the square. Their booth featured thread and yarn for sale, in undyed skeins. They were amused when he asked, but more than willing to explain the tops- or rather spindles, and how they worked. Once they’d explained, it made perfect sense, and Logan was even cautiously sure he’d heard about them before. 

At the other end of the common, Remus found what he’d been looking for; gaming booths, and Logan was boggled at how little they’d changed, though the prizes offered were more often foodstuffs than stuffed toys- though small stuffed toys were in the array. There was a ring toss, knock-the-bottle-down, oversized darts, a flat out gambling game with a large, brightly colored wheel, and a game that was clearly related to fishing somehow, where the objective was to catch a hoop just barely above the water without wetting the twisted paper string that held the hook, made more difficult by the long pole it was attached to. The hoops had tags on them, corresponding to prizes. Logan watched several people fail at it, and declined to try, despite the booth owner’s heckling rejoinder to give it a shot. The prizes appeared to be mostly bright bits of inexpensive jewelry, so not anything that interested Logan over much anyway. Remus had wandered away briefly and returned with a basket filled with small fried dumplings. He offered one up to Logan. 

“These are good. They’ve got cheese in ‘em.” 

“I hardly-” Logan’s thought was interrupted as Remus popped the bite in his mouth. t It was still hot and occupied his attention thoroughly. “Don’t do that!” he scolded. 

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” Remus grinned and popped another of the dumplings in his mouth.

“Yes, they certainly have cheese in them.” Logan retorted dryly. Remus laughed so hard he almost choked on his bite. However, Remus was also correct that they were good, and Logan delicately picked up another blowing on it before biting into it. 

“So, see any good prizes?” 

“I’m not sure what you’d consider a good prize.” Logan said honestly. “There’s ribbons, and toys and small bits of costume jewelry, for the most part.” 

“What I’d consider good is something that would make you smile.” Remus said smoothly, and popped another dumpling into Logan’s surprised mouth. “Oh, hey, we could get your ears pierced!”

“Certainly not!” Logan yelped, clapping his hands over his earlobes at the suggestion. Remus started laughing again. 

“Aw, c’mon, pretty boy. I think you’d look sexy as hell. There’s a booth over there that’s just selling jewelry that can do it, looks nice and clean too.” 

“I doubt anyone in this town has any kind of good grasp on sanitary procedure.” Logan grumbled. “I’d look like a thug.” 

“Just one, then?” Remus teased. Logan rolled his eyes, and they went back to looking at the booths. Logan almost lost Remus when the duke stopped to look at fine thread and needle craft. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to be interested in this sort of thing.” 

Remus gave a short laugh. “Well, I have hobbies, you know.” 

“Needlework?”

“Embroidery.” He defended himself. “Nothing says ‘I have the patience to stab something a thousand times’ like a well decorated shirt.” He straightened his cuffs. “ _ Some _ men like to feel pretty, Logan. We can’t all be as naturally talented as you.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very pretty Remus.” Logan rolled his eyes, and was startled by a sudden kiss to the cheek. 

“Well now I have to get you something nice. You flirt.” 

“You started it-” Logan protested. 

“Let’s see, what have you liked…” Remus scanned the fair. Logan rolled his eyes again, given that there hadn’t been anything that really caught his eye. What he’d been most interested in was the spindles, and that had been curiosity not any kind of desire. As Logan failed to be cooperative with his attempt to spoil him, Remus won him an assortment of sweets at the games- far more than he could eat, plainly trying to show off. 

Logan  _ was  _ impressed, since he had every faith the games were rigged with the same delicately balanced dishonesty as they were in street fairs at home. He kept picking the edible prizes in an attempt to look less ridiculous, since they were starting to fill up his arms. When Remus had been through almost every game, Logan started looking for some sort of trinket to shut him up with. He almost had it when the prize wheel had netted a carved wooden comb (one of the bigger prizes)but that failed when one of the combs had been decorated with a rather inaccurate cephalopod of some sort, which Remus had plainly loved, and Logan had made him take the prize for himself. This only seemed to make Remus more determined to find something for Logan, and they found themselves next to the fishing booth, which Logan suddenly realised was next to the jewelry merchant’s booth, and given the certain similarity between the booth owners' appearances, he suspected they were actually related. 

Logan had to admire this concept; people were perfectly willing to spend more money attempting to win a piece of jewelry then they were to simply buy it, but if the patron was smart enough to notice that the prizes and the stock were the same, all they had to do was decide not to play the game. Remus was studying the game now and twisting the small lock of off color hairs that were coming loose from his hair clasp. Logan nudged him. 

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, you’d better think better of it.” 

Remus gave him a plainly theatrical innocent look. 

“I don’t think; you know that.”

Logan raised his eyebrows, and freed a hand to tug the patch of hair himself before smoothing it back. Remus grinned unrepentantly, and Logan towed him to the other side of the wagon to where the trays of jewelry were displayed. Logan stared at them seriously, trying to pick out the most appealing piece, and spotted a hair tie with a decorative plaque featuring an inlaid mother of pearl design in the shape of a unicorn, and what might have been painted poppies flanking it. It was actually appealing because of the effective artistry, and practical as he’d only had one elastic tie for his hair with him and that had broken and despite his best effort to tie the ends together it was less effective. It had disappeared completely in the bandit attack and he had little luck holding back his hair with a bit of cord, or by wrapping the braids around each other. His braids were hanging loose at the moment, and he kept tucking them back behind his ear as they got in the way. 

“I could just win it.” Remus offered. 

“You have admirably demonstrated luck and skill already tonight; you don’t need to show me how you grift a game. If you wish to spoil me with a trinket you can buy that.” He hefted the string bag that held the collection of edible prizes. He’d bought the string bag after nearly dropping them, and while it was excessive Logan had every intent to eat them over the next few days and didn’t want to lose them. “You don’t need to, as I already am more than spoiled this evening.” Indeed the sun had completely set, and booths were lit with lanterns of all kinds, and the paths between them were much more full, presumably with people who had come with animals and had needed to stay with them until night fell. He could hear the laughter and clapping of dancers in the square beyond the booths. 

“If you say so.” Remus purchased the clasp, and moved them out of the way, in the lee of a booth within sight of the dancing. Logan reached for the clasp, but instead Remus gathered his hair up and tied it for him. 

“You keep forgetting to ask.” Logan said sourly, shaking his head to check the tie. It felt secure, which made him feel more comfortable. 

“I like your hair.” Remus responded. “I like how the braids feel, texture twisted into texture. You don’t mind when I touch it most of the time. Or anywhere else.”

Logan blushed realising that he had gotten exceptionally lenient with letting Remus touch him in general. In fact his fingers were stroking along his jaw, drawing his attention to the redhead leaning in close. 

“Kiss for the pretty?” he asked coyly. 

“You could have just asked for that.” Logan retorted, but tipped his head, letting his eyes slide closed as they kissed. Remus liked to kiss, to hold hands or just hold him, and Logan had gotten used to it, and even realised he enjoyed it. He wasn’t sure if it meant anything to Remus or not, or even if it meant anything to him. This kiss was mostly soft, a small swipe of tongue sharing the flavor of the candy he’d eaten earlier. Remus pulled back and ended it with a second quick press of lips, leaving Logan feeling pleasantly warm and slightly relaxed in the cooler night air. 

“You’re the pretty.” Remus murmured, and Logan swatted his shoulder. 

“Stop that.”

“You can’t make me!” he grinned, and grabbed Logan’s hand “C’mon, let’s dance.”

“I don’t know how!” Logan protested as he was dragged towards the square. 

“It’s easy, you just watch the other people and move with the music.” 

Logan wasn’t sure he’d ever ‘gotten it’ but he’d more or less followed the pattern in the swirls as the dance swirled in circles, broke into pairs, traded partners, and snaked about before repeating. There were several different kinds of dances, but they had many similar motifs, and no one minded if his feet weren’t quite doing the right thing. The casual lack of any real annoyance about him dancing with another man was a strange and not unwelcome feeling. Something itched at the back of his mind while he danced, however. It left him feeling ugly, unwieldy, and wrong somehow. But when he tried to pull away, Remus pulled him back. A spin had him falling against Remus’s chest, and he took the opportunity to steal a kiss, light and playful, before spinning Logan again and passing him off to another partner. The ridiculousness of it made Logan laugh, surprising himself, and the awkwardness faded a bit, to more the level he felt when he went or was dragged to a club- a level that made perfect sense. The night was well on when the musicians took a break and the drink stands were mobbed by thirsty dancers. Instead of joining them, Logan headed back to the inn, to drink water from the well there. When he’d first arrived he was wary of the water, but at this point, he was more than willing to drink the water in a setting where other people were. It was perhaps a bit foolish, but better than trying to quench his thirst with ale. 

“You alright there, specs?” Remus asked. “Having fun?”

“If you can call being manhandled by semi-washed shepards at high speeds fun, then yes, I suppose.”

“Being manhandled can be a lot of fun.” Remus smirked and splashed water on his face and hair. “Things had been kind of much lately, thought you might like something different.” He peered out from between his fingers, pausing in rubbing water on his face. “And you’re smiling again.” 

“You’re just flirting again.” He retorted, turning away so Remus couldn’t see that he was smiling. 

“Oh it’s never just flirting.” A cold wet hand traced along his jaw. 

“It’s not going to get very far.” Logan didn’t look up. 

“Yeah, I’ve gotten used to that. Still like it.” Remus leaned close and kissed Logan’s cheek, unexpectedly. “I figure you’re just savin’ yourself for marriage.” 

Logan burst out laughing and smacked him on the arm. As he went to do it again, he was gathered up in Remus’s arms, and swung around in a dance for just two people. 

For some reason, Logan’s mind chose that moment to remind him that once they’d escaped this narrative prison, and Remus had been reunited with his twin; they would probably never see eachother again. Given that, he could perhaps be excused in the desperate way he pulled Remus in to kiss him again. 

Despite Remus’s prodding, Logan wasn’t particularly interested in staying for the rest of the Beryie Fleece Fair. He had no interest in the judging of fleece or bizarre races. Besides, if they stayed for the fair, they would be tangled in the leaving traffic. They headed out towards Green Moor Seat the next morning, still damp from washing and rode all day without incident, the sun setting and fireflies- actual fireflies, normal greenish yellow dancing bugs- climbing out of the fields on either side of the road. They came to rest at a way house, an inn without a town, visible from a far distance, set just off the road. There were even a few late stragglers at the inn heading to Beryie. 

Another two days travel, and there were occasional country houses visible dotting the fields, recogniseable by their tree-lined drives, and to a lesser extent the short cropped grass in the fields immediately surrounding them. Once they drew up as a well dressed troupe of people darted across the road, chasing a tangle of floppy eared hounds- they’d missed whatever the hounds were on the scent of. Logan worried momentarily that their mounts would be caught up in the herd, despite the fact the horses the hunters were on were dainty slender legged horses, but neither Phllip nor Samson seemed particularly impressed by the impressive leaps they took as they poured onto the road then off again. 

“What’s the phrase,” Remus snorted as they started again “The useless in pursuit of the in inedible?” 

“I believe the quote is ‘the unspeakable in pursuit of the inedible.’” Logan corrected idly. He cocked his head. “How are you familiar with Oscar Wilde?” 

“Cuts. Our worlds are linked, remember? Books are prime imports.” Remus explained. “Sanders doesn’t do mass producing the same way your world does. I mean it’s expensive, but only if you actually pay for it.” 

“Have you… been back much?” Logan asked, trying to picture Remus loose in Florida- or anywhere else in the world for that matter. 

“Personally? No.” Remus wasn’t looking back at him for a change, as they continued down the road. “Me going after Roman was kind of a desperate shot, frankly. A lot of Cuts are getting closed down.”

“How does that work, if our worlds are connected?”

“I’m hardly an expert.” Remus flapped a hand “But they say they used to be much more connected; but the natural Cuts started to close for some reason; the Marked Mages figure it’s a lack of magical use in your world, stops the flow, and then it’s like a river getting blocked off.” 

“Well that makes a certain amount of sense. As far as I know, any magic in the real-” he stopped himself as Remus turned with such a sudden movement he could have sworn he heard bones crack. “Ah that is to say, Florida, is stage magic, not anything like I’ve seen you do.” 

They had had a very loud and intense argument when Logan had called Sanders ‘a fantasy world’. Remus had been fine with Logan referring to Gurinkot as fake, because it was the construct of a spell, but when he’d realised that Logan had only meant his homeland when he said ‘the real world’ he had been upset to say the least. In fact, Logan hadn’t seen him quite that angry again until the fight with the bandits. Logan had defended his opinion sharply, after all, a world full of magic and nonhuman creatures could hardly be called the ‘real’ world. Remus had iceily demanded how any world without magic could be counted as ‘real’. In retrospect it was a ridiculous argument, and in the end, Logan lost. Well, he lost in that he had promised not to refer to his home as the ‘real’ world when comparing it to anything other than the tangle trap. It was harder than he expected, honestly, though perhaps because he’d never seen Sanders. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” Remus said. “But still I can guarantee there’s more magic in your world than you think.” Logan made a discontented noise. 

“Still. Can they get blocked off from Sanders?” 

“Absolutely. Mostly they get blocked off if they’re in inconvenient places. And there’s a natural flow to it too- a Cut that starts in Sanders can’t be reopened from your world, and a Cut from your world that’s been blocked can’t be unblocked from Sanders.” Remus cracked his neck and faced forward. “I just had an idea- I should teach you a counterspell.”

“What? No. That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“If you say so. Never can tell when you need a simple countercharm.” 

“I am concerned about your use of magic.” Logan retorted. “Since it seems to hurt you.” 

“Aw, that’s sweet. But you don’t need to worry about me.” 

“I disagree.” 

Why that made Remus giggle was beyond Logan. 

Green Moor Seat was smaller than Lockbridge, but only barely. It came into sight late afternoon, a gray smudge against the crops and fields. It was on the larger river that they’d been seeing off and on but it didn’t straddle it the same way Lockbridge Seat had. Logan couldn’t help but stare at it, and wonder what waited them there. He looked past it to the horizon next. According to the map, the moors gave out another days ride away, and the second biggest city in the Ride was a port. A part of him wondered what color the ocean was here, and urged him to put his heels to Phillip’s sides and  _ run _ . Thankfully, Logan had more sense than that. 

Thanks to the flatness of the moor, the city was further away than it looked, and they entered after dark had fallen, leading the horses through the gate, which seemed to be largely symbolic, because unlike Lockbridge there was no wall attached to it, and he couldn’t see any gate that could be lowered. There were guards but they seemed to only be counting, not even asking their names, just making a tally mark and waving them through. 

The buildings were largely built of wood, with carvings decorating the door posts and the outdoor stairs. The cobbled streets were fairly narrow, even on the main road Logan doubted two wagons would be able to pass each other without a great deal of maneuvering. It felt cozy and old world, like pictures from Europe. The people they passed ranged from laborerers to merchants, and their coloration seemed to swing between Remus’s swarthy tan and Logan’s darker tone, even showing similarity in hairstyles. Despite the fact there was no reason for them to delay their arrival Logan found himself longing to find lodgings and locate the Count the next morning. He was sure this was the same fey urge that had overcome him on the highroad. Still, there didn’t seem to be any harm in that- perhaps even more polite than arriving unannounced at dinner time.

Clearing his throat, he got Remus’s attention.

“So I was thinking we could find an inn for the night-” he started. 

“Look out-” Remus grabbed his shirt and hauled him sideways swinging him into Samson’s side, putting him between the horses. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure stumble, and then they were under attack. Remus put himself between Logan and the figures that emerged from the shadowed alleys, unslinging his weapon and drawing his long knife. “If you’re lookin’ for coin ye’d better pass by.” he hissed, kicking the attacker who’d almost had Logan’s unprotected back. The grubby mugger rolled away, coming to their feet. Peering over the horse’s backs, Logan saw more emerge behind them. There were only a half dozen, but it was too many for a casual mugging. 

“Behind us.” He warned Remus, hand dropping down to his waist, uncertain if he should go for the knife or the throwing weapons. 

“What fun.” Remus chuckled and swung his mace, aiming not at body mass, but the knife he was being threatened with. There was a crunch and a yell as it made contact with the hand holding the knife. Samson snorted and kicked out a foot, the motion sending Logan stumbling into Phillip, but knocking over an attacker. 

“C’mon now, you’re outnumbered.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, and I haven’t laid down and died yet.” Remus snarled, swinging in a warding arch, keeping the attackers at a distance. “Logan, mount up-” Phillip screamed, a horrifying noise, and Logan’s wrist snapped out- sending a blade flying into the man who’d just sunk his knife into the horse’s side. 

“Shit.” Remus swore. 

“I can’t help but feel that’s tacky.” Logan said a little hysterically. 

“For muggers, yeah. For soldiers, however-” He slashed at an attacker, sending a spout of blood up. Another dodged in, this one with a sword, and landed a slash on Remus’s thigh. “Shit!” he swore again. 

Logan sent out another star, this one barely nicking the target’s ear. He pressed closer to Samson and Remus, Phillip’s reins still looped over his wrist, and the horse limping closer, almost crushing against him. 

“STOP THERE!” Came a bellow from the end of the street. 

“We’re either getting help or mowed down.” Remus laughed as a handful of mounted men tore down the street towards them. The attackers behind then fled, but the ones in front were trapped between the oncoming help and Remus’s attacks. In moments there were bodies on the street, and two of the mounted men pushed past to pursue the other attackers. One of the other mounted men dismounted to roll the bodies onto their backs, peering at their faces in the dim light, before pulling out a crystal bound at one end with string from his pouch, allowing light to spring from it. When he did that, the mounted man raised a lantern to get a better look at them. Remus stepped between Logan and their apparent rescuers. 

“Are you Logan Teach?” The mounted man asked. 

“Given the situation, I’d like to know who’s asking?” Logan retorted, squinting at the sudden light. 

“Salta Lupine.” he said. The name sounded familiar but Logan wasn’t sure why. “I’m the second son of the Count of Green Moor Ride. You match the description, at least.” 

“Terribly sorry.” Logan answered. “Things have been a bit-” he waved a hand, and realised he still had a weapon in it, putting it away quickly. “Like this.” he finished. Salta gave a laugh, not lowering the lantern. 

“I’d imagine.” The lantern moved finally, showing handsome tanned features, and a close trimmed beard along his chin. 

“But I am Logan Teach.” Using the light of the lantern, he cautiously moved out from between the horses, turning Phillip to look at his wound. The geldling seemed mostly fine, though a long, deep slash crossed his hip just under the saddle bag, and he was keeping the weight off of it. Logan sighed, relieved. Remus had joined the other man in looking at the bodies. Logan looked up at the newcomer. “Are you here to bring me somewhere?”

“Ah, yes, my apologies.” He dismounted now, leaving the lantern hooked to the saddle horn, and offered his hand to Logan. Logan clasped it, wondering if a more formal greeting was called for, and erred on the side of caution, giving a bow-like inclination of his head. Salta laughed again, and offered a similar motion. “We expected you earlier, so left word that if someone matched your description we should be notified. When the word came in, I decided it might be better to meet you. It can be kind of a warren around here unless you’re used to it. Green Moor Seat was not a planned city, the way some other Seats are. We probably should have left word for you to wait at the gate for the escort.” He smiled, almost sheepishly. One of the other mounted riders returned, with militia- or rater watch officers walking beside them, one of the muggers trailing behind, fingers bound together with thongs. “Excellent!” 

“It’s not that great.” Retorted the rider. “At least one got away. This one was missing a vault because he was hurt.”

“Catchin’ him now is our concern.” One of the watchmen said. “And this’en will help with that, I’m sure.” they turned their attention to Remus, asking him questions- presumably because he was the armed one. As he gave a quick explanation of what had happened, the rider who’d stopped with Salta took a few quick notes. 

“They look like they have a handle on this; I can take you home now?” Salta offered. 

“My horse is injured.” Logan said. “I think I’ll wait for my escort to be done.” He gave a weak smile. “I’ve never met you before, to be perfectly honest.” That being said, he looked familiar somehow. Logan would have suspected inbred nobility except he distinctly didn’t look like Ethan or the Count of Lockbridge. 

“You know that is more than fair. I hear you’ve had quite the trip.” he laughed again. “These nice watchpeople can also confirm my identity if that helps reassure you.” It took a moment to get their attention as they were more focused on the prisoners- one of the ones who hadn’t gotten away was still alive. Once they did, the watchmen confirmed that yes, this was the son of the Count. The men who’d arrived with him thought this was funny for some reason. 

“We’re good to go.” Remus stepped up next to Logan, having taken a moment to check on Phillip’s wound. “Lead the way.” 

Salta tipped his head and stared at Remus for a long moment, before nodding. At his prompting, Remus got onto Samson and pulled Logan up behind him, leading Phillip to spare his leg. 

It seemed that they had gotten turned around because in short order Salta had led them to a slightly broader street lit with lamps, and from there they entered into a pleasant district with larger buildings that even had gardens around them. They headed straight to one with a courtyard like an inn yard, a small looping drive leading right up to the front entrance, half hidden behind a man-high wrot iron fence. The yard was even better lit than the streets, and as they rode up, the door opened. An older man with broad streaks of silver in his dark brown hair stepped out onto the stoop and called out. 

“Did you find him, Salta?” 

“I did.” he sounded a little uncertain. Remus dismounted and helped Logan down, because Logan was trying to place why this man- presumably the Count given his resemblance to their erstwhile rescuer- had the same strange feeling of familiarity around the face. Liveried servants came out to take their bags, and Logan kept a firm hold on the satchel that held his modern clothes, as a holster clucked over Phillip’s wound and promised to make sure he was taken care of. Logan thanked him, honestly more concerned with the horse, who he knew, then meeting new people. From the look on his face, Remus seemed equally confused by the count. As they stepped forward, Salta moving to introduce Logan to his father, another person stepped out, a woman of about the same age as the count with brilliant auburn hair and brilliant green eyes. Remus went stiff at her appearance, and looked, if Logan was right, mildly ill. 

“This is Logan Teach, the heir of Firemountain Lodge.” Salta said. “This is the Count my father, Tasmin, and my mother, Silvia.” The count wasn’t looking at Logan however, he was staring at Remus. The count’s consort did one better, rushing down the steps, and cupping Remus’s face in both hands. 

More to Logan’s shock, he let her.

“It is you! Remus!” she cried, and broke down into tears, flinging her arms around him.

“I was right!” Salta said, covering his mouth in shock. “I thought- it had been so long, it  _ couldn’t  _ be.” 

“How could you do this?” the count demanded, but his voice sounded thick “Why didn’t you send word? We thought you were dead!” 

Logan was getting increasingly confused, as Remus delicately attempted to sooth the woman sobbing against his chest. His sea-sick expression continued, and he looked over her head at Logan. 

“I don’t understand.” Logan said at last. “My escort-” 

“Your escort.” the count said. “Is my eldest son. He was captured at sea by pirates years ago.” Remus’s eyes met Logan’s and he gave the tiniest shake of his head, red eyes widening. Only that kept Logan from questioning everything that had happened so far. Then he realized this was it; one last twist from the tangle trap to attempt to get them lost in the story. 

“So,” Remus asked, a little thickly. “Am I eligible for that alliance marriage with Logan?” the countess burst into laughter, stepping back far enough to allow Remus to extend his hand to Logan invitingly. 

Suddenly the light from the lamps went blinding and sourceless wind blew past him, fast and hard enough to make Logan stumble towards Remus. He reached out desperately, catching Remus’s hand, locking them together.


	3. .Book Three.

They both slammed down into the ground, Logan on top. 

From the sound of things, Remus had hit the back of his head when they landed, as well as Logan’s weight driving air out of his lungs. He was groaning. No, he was crying. Logan pried his hand loose from Remus’s death grip and lifted himself off the other man’s chest, ending up kneeling over him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“They had no fuckin’ right.” Remus said thickly. “I’m going to find whoever wrote that tangle trap and I’m going to rip their intestines out and wind them around a post, and maybe then they’ll understand how terrible that was.” With his hands free, he covered his eyes, tears leaking out from beneath them. “They stole my mother’s face, Logan. They put it on a fictional creature and had her call me son.”

Logan pulled Remus up against him, wrapping his arms around him, and let Remus bury his face in his neck, holding him tightly. 

“I know it was my brain betraying me, but fuck.” He sobbed a few more times, then pulled back to wipe his nose on his cuff instead of Logan’s shoulder. 

“So, not to rush your emotional state, but do you know where we are?” Logan asked. 

Remus rubbed the last of the tears from his eyes, and looked around the room. 

“Ironically, at my mother's old villa.” Remus sounded slightly surprised, his voice still thick with emotion. “Which shouldn’t surprise me much since the Cut I was heading for was near there, so the tangle trap would have grabbed me on the way.” the room was nearly empty, with dust motes dancing in through diamond window panes. There were a few pieces of furniture draped in dust cloths. “I think... This might be me and Roman’s room?” He smiled weakly at Logan. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, but you’ll need to get off me.” 

Coughing self consciously, Logan let go the rest of the way and got to his feet, dusting himself off. 

“I take it that means we are Sanders.” 

Remus got to his feet and cautiously opened the window, sticking his head out. 

“If it’s not, it’s doing a damn good impression.” Suddenly he whirled towards the door as footsteps came down the hallway. He waved Logan away from the door, readying his weapon. Logan’s mind whirled at the implications of the fact the mace had come with them out of the book as the door was pushed open from the other side, swinging into the room. Remus looked surprised that no one was there, and took a step towards it when it creaked louder and suddenly there was a figure dressed in gray in the empty space. 

“Remus?” a hand started to raise in a vaguely threatening fashion. “Oh this had better not be a trick-” he hissed. He didn’t get any further as Remus dropped the weapon in favor of leaping forward and crushing the other man in his arms, lifting him off his black-booted feet and twirling around giddily.

“Janus!” he said, voice thick with emotion again. “It's you! It’s you! I’m back! It’s real! They wouldn’t  _ dare _ .” His words cut off as Remus stopped talking in favor of peppering the man’s honey-bronze skin with kisses without even putting him down. From the tight grip he had on Remus’s tunic, and the fact he was desperately trying to return the favor, Logan gathered that they knew each other. 

“You foul little plague monkey” he got out around kisses. “Where have you been? What happened to you! How dare you just show up! I thought you were dead!” 

“Never, never, never- I can’t die without your permission, remember?” Remus laughed wetly, and their lips finally connected, Remus putting him down in favor of cupping his face tenderly. 

Logan felt  _ increasingly  _ awkward. He was sure that Remus had said no one was waiting for him, hadn’t he? But whoever this Janus was they were clearly close. Unless Remus kissed all his friends with tongue. Well, given Remus, he might. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t feeling jealous. He didn’t have a reason to be jealous. Logan shifted from one foot to the other, and finally, he sneezed. He hadn’t intended to, but it was dusty. That seemed to remind Remus he was there, and he stopped kissing the other man. He didn’t seem quite ready to talk yet, however, tucking his face into his hair and inhaling like he hadn’t been breathing properly for a while. 

Janus had the presence to notice Logan sizing him up. He was short enough he had to rise on his toes to hook his chin over Remus’s shoulder. His face was striking, oval with a long narrow nose, framed in long swathes of loose silky black hair. One of his eyes was dark brown and the other hazel so pale it looked unnaturally golden. Most strikingly however was the scar tissue that covered the left side of his face. It looked as though someone had tried unsuccessfully to remove the skin. Color peeked through the scars here and there, and Logan caught the impression of inked scales along the side of his chin. There was a nick missing in the upper curve of his ear on that side. Logan felt he was being assessed even as he took those features in. From the flat look the mismatched eyes gave him, their owner was not exactly impressed. 

“Beautiful, beautiful snakey.” Mumbled Remus, and he finally pulled back, staring at Janus’s face. He gaped. “What happened to you?!”

“ _ Now _ you notice!” Janus choked. “You idiot!” 

“I was too busy being happy to see you!” He stroked his fingers over the scar. “Who did this? Why!?” 

“Remus- Remus- Focus.” He patted the redhead’s cheek. “That is not your brother. Who is that?” 

“Oh!” He turned, keeping his arm around Janus’s waist as he did. “I was in a tangle trap-”

“For a year?!” Janus interrupted. 

“Yeah! and Logan here opened the key from the other side, in Florida.” 

Logan offered his hand. 

“As Remus doesn’t seem likely to introduce us; allow me to introduce myself. I’m Logan Lehrer. I found what he says was a ‘Tangle-trap’ in a used book store, and when I untied the knot holding it closed, I was sucked in. At that point, from what I gather, a story started, as before I opened it, Remus was stuck in a single day. We navigated our way through it, just now emerging here.” 

Janus’s eyebrows raised, and a faint smile curled at the edges of his lips. 

“I see Remus has found another smart fellow to help him.” He freed a hand to take Logan’s. “My name is Janus Dean. I worked for the Magic Circle.”

Logan was somewhat surprised at the banal name for this exotic individual. He tried to keep a straight face as Remus kept pressing kisses to the scar tissue on Janus’s face as if that would make it better. He suddenly stopped and pulled back a little bit.

“Janus! I forgot! He knows where Roman is!” 

“What? I assumed you didn’t find him-” There was a look of shocked hope on Janus’s face. 

“I didn’t technically, but Logan knows where he lives!”

“I know where he  _ works _ .” Logan corrected. “And I’d say I knew where he worked a month ago, it might have changed.” 

“But you know where the other prince is.” Janus asked. 

“I know where a man named Roman that looks almost exactly like Remus is.” Logan confirmed. 

“I’m still wrapping my head around Remus being alive and now this.” Janus murmured. 

“But if you’re here, did you get the Cut open?”

“No, I didn’t.” Janus shook his head. “It’s blocked from the other side, just like I told you before you ran off like an idiot!” He flicked the end of Remus’s nose, but he seemed unbothered. “And I don’t know if you noticed, but I have been severely limited.” Remus’s fingers ghosted over the scars. 

“Now that you mention it, there’s a certain lack of ink going on. So you need to tell me who I need to kill and take their skin in retaliation.” 

Janus let his eyes close at the caress, but then opened them again. 

“No wait- let go of me for a moment.” 

Reluctantly, Remus released him, and Janus moved towards Logan slowly and smoothly, moving like a dancer, eyes narrow. Logan tightened his hand on the strap of the bag and held his ground. Janus stroked a finger over the ridge of his own eyebrow, trailing it down the scar and under his chin as he looked up at Logan. This close, Logan could see a regular design of scales tattooed down the side of his neck, golden green against his skin. For a moment both eyes flashed the brilliant golden hazel, pupils dark pinpricks. Janus inhaled deeply through his nose and mouth at the same time and he reached out, almost touching Logan’s face, pupils swiftly blowing so wide that he could now barely see the color.

“There’s a trace-” Janus hissed out. “I could follow it back to his origin. To where he entered the tangle-trap.” 

“You can send me home?” Logan asked. When he’d said the Cut was blocked, he’d almost lost hope. 

“I am sending you  _ both _ .” Janus sounded like it physically hurt him. “And you will help him find his brother.” 

Today was the day. 

Roman had decided it, when he woke up and had a really good hair day. His skin was clear, he’d gotten a wonderful night’s sleep, with incredible, sweeping dreams and woke rested. His lucky shirt was even clean. Today was the day that Virgil would stop making fun of him, because he was going to get the name of the handsome regular if it killed him. Well, Virgil would stop making fun of him for that one thing. 

And he’d get that name, the first step to maybe making the jump from patron to person. 

Who knew what kind of good things would spring from that one decision on a Monday morning? 

Logan was prepared for the worst when Janus had prepared the magic- his count had them inside the tangle trap for over a month. While his rent and utilities were on automatic payment, and his savings were sufficient for longer than that, there were any number of factors that would complicate that; not to mention the level of dust that would have built up, and he had just enough food in his refrigerator that it would be highly unpleasant to return to. 

The spell that followed the trace wasn’t nearly as distracting or unpleasant as entering or exiting the tangle trap had been. It felt like riding in a very tall, very fast elevator. When the sensation stopped, Logan opened his eyes and looked around. Even though he knew the intent, he was somewhat surprised to see the living room of his apartment. 

Midmorning light shone through clean windows and half-drawn blinds. They stood in front of his work table, the slim moss green volume that had started this lying innocently in the center, the faded gilt text now visibly reading ‘The Heir of Fire Mountain’. Beside it was the wine glass Logan had been drinking out of. Both were free of dust, and the last dregs of wine weren’t even completely dried. Logan shook Remus’s arms off of his waist and pulled his phone out of the belt pouch where it had lived for the last month, turning it on.

Incredulously he stared as it came to life, still holding a decent charge of 40%. A missed alarm notification came up, then his email which told him he had only one real message, followed with a text from Lyra. For now, none of that was relevant. He was focused on the date. According to his phone, which had immediately connected to his home wireless, it was the twenty second; and it had been the nineteenth when he’d opened the book. It was Monday. Only Monday. His mind scrambled to catch up with that fact. 

Meanwhile, Remus was looking around curiously, poking at the framed poster on his wall, peering into the fridge. Somehow, Logan’s mind added everything up and came to an odd conclusion as he stared at his phone.

“I’m going to be late!” 

“What?” Remus asked, clearly confused. 

Thoughtlessly stuffing the disabled tangle trap into the bag he was still wearing, Logan rushed past the kitchen and into the entry hall, grabbing his keys and wallet from the small table there. 

“Late for what?” Remus asked more clearly, as Logan unlocked the door. Instead of answering, he grabbed Remus’s hand and hauled him out of the apartment, locking the door behind them, and starting off down the hall at a jog, juggling his phone, wallet and keys into his pouch as he went.

His downstairs neighbor stared at them through a cracked door as they left, but shook their head and minded their own business. 

“You look like a dog.” Remy teased. Roman shook his head and focused on what he was doing instead of staring out the front window. It wasn’t very busy this morning, which gave him plenty of time to dream up romantic scenarios. 

“Shut up. He’s late. He’s never late.” 

“He’s like- a minute and a half late. Maybe he broke a shoelace.” 

“He wears vans.”

“You know that puts you in the creepy category, Right, Ro?” 

“Noticing fashion isn’t creepy!” he retorted, finishing the drink he was working on, and offering it out. 

“It is gay though.” 

“Oh no! Whatever shall I do?” Roman rolled his eyes, taking the cup Remy handed him and looking at the order on the side. “Me? Gay? Next you’ll be claiming water is wet, and Disney isn’t incomparable.” He finished the drink and handed it over, watching the patron hurry away, leaving the shop with only a few scattered people, including Andy, who didn’t look particularly awake but was chugging along on his laptop, drinking a smoothie because Roman had promised him something heart-stoppingly caffeinated if he drank the smoothie first. 

Remy just snorted and shook his head, picking up his own cup, taking a drink. “I’m going to make a quick visit, and I’ll be back. Hold down the fort! Remember the alamo!”

“No, don’t leave me to get overrun with these galloping masses!” Roman retorted, waving at the empty space in front of the register. Remy, being that kind of friend, laughed as he headed into the back. Roman sighed, shaking his head, and tried to force himself not to look out the front window for his absent crush who he would have previously sworn waited around the corner just so he could always arrive at the CAT Café at the exact same time. 

The bell jangled, and Roman turned to welcome- the regular, his braids pulled back from his face into a tail, looking rumpled, frantic and wearing the most magnificent doublet in indigo, the collar unfastened just enough for Roman to see the white, embrodiered shirt beneath it, which was likewise open far enough to display his clavicle and collarbone, and Roman felt like he was imploding with gay longing because how in  _ hell  _ had he gotten  _ better  _ looking? 

Given that, it wasn’t surprising that Roman had managed to miss that he was towing someone behind him. It was only a furtive glance at his hands- Roman had long ago been lost on those hands, watching them hold things or work on his laptop, and framed with the slightest ruffle at the edge of the cuff was incredible- that made him realise that someone else was there. For a moment Roman was very confused, because how could a mirror have a hand? A warped reflection in the shop window- somehow wearing a similar doubtlet in what looked like black-ish green deer hide, still embroidered, and open completely. Roman actually put a hand to his face to make sure he hadn’t spontaneously grown a mustache. The entire shop was eerily silent. Roman swallowed. His bizzaro reflection or maybe twin just worked his jaw as if he was trying to figure out what to say. Roman couldn’t take it, and tore his attention to the regular who’d been haunting his dreams, flushing all over again as their eyes met. 

“Large black, four sugars?” he suggested weakly. There was a beat, and tall dark and handsome blinked, a certain franticness in his eyes fading, just a touch.

“That would be nice.” 

“Can I get a name for the cup?” He asked, fumbling for the pen and cup. 

“Logan. My name is Logan.” 

The calm broke.

“What the fuck?!” yelped Andy. The doppelganger dropped Logan’s hand and reached out to touch Roman as if making sure he was real. As hands touched his face, Roman lost his grip on the cup and pen, covering those hands with his own. 

“Roman.” the man who looked like him said.

“Who  _ are  _ you?” Roman squeaked. 

“I’m your twin brother; you  _ can’t  _ have forgotten me!” He looked over at Logan. “You said there wasn’t magic here, what could have wiped his memory?”

“I made you  _ up _ !” Roman protested, and Remus looked horrified, pulling back just a bit. “My having a twin, the Kingdom of Sanders, that was all just a fantasy to deal with the loss of my mother!” 

“No, that’s real.” Logan said, as though it was fact.

There was a clattering sound behind him, and Roman turned to see Mr. Foster had dropped the entire tray of sandwiches on the floor. 

“Remus.” he said, eyes bright and wide. “What are you doing here?”

It took a moment for the recognition to sweep over Remus’s face, and he reached to the small of his back where his knife was.

“ _ You- _ you knew where Roman was- did  _ you  _ wipe his memory!?” 

“No!” Mr. Foster was clutching at his own forearms tightly, fingers digging into the tattoos that covered them. Then he whipped his hands up, making a casting motion as though he was throwing a net. Remus snarled a word that Logan didn’t catch, slapping a hand over Logan’s mouth, and his other hand over Roman’s. Like a chain, there was the sound of soft thumps as every other patron of the CAT Café fell into slumber. As the last body slumped over, Remus moved his hand to clasp arms with Roman tightly. His garnet red eyes met Roman’s emerald and it felt like a spark passed between them. 

“Run.”

“What?”

“RUN!” 

“But if this is real then-”

“I won’t lose you again, don’t worry. But get out of here. Now!” Roman found himself obeying, vaulting the counter. As he left he passed Andy, and without even really thinking, he swept the slight figure up over his shoulder and dashed out the door. Behind him, he heard something breaking. 

This was not how he expected his day to go. 

Roman was completely out of breath when he got home, but Andy was still unconscious, which was more concerning. He was so confused. His imaginary friend was real, his crush was named Logan, and Mr. Foster- MR. FOSTER- had  _ recognised  _ his imaginary friend and then attacked them all with a magic spell. 

Okay, Mr. Foster having magic explained more than it didn’t, but that was the only thing that really tracked. He shut the door and locked it behind him, and lay Andy on the sofa, collapsing next to him on the floor and breathing heavily. He was sweaty, exhausted, and among other things, his good hair day was ruined. 

Virgil came out of the bathroom, naked from the waist up except for a towel around his shoulders. He was holding a cup of hair dye- with the brush still sticking out of it- in one hand and a knife in the other. His hair was half-covered in viscous purple dye. 

“I was not expecting you home until this afternoon.” he said gesturing at his hair with the knife. Roman had to admit a bit of jealousy at the easy, unconscious way Virgil could open and close pocket knives of all sorts one handed, even with rubber gloves on. The last time he’d mentioned it, Andy had said that Virgil had practiced all through highschool, like it was a fidget cube. Roman rocked up on his knees and checked on Andy. He really did seem to be asleep, looking just like he’d normally run out of the caffeine and spite that kept him going. He’d just done it instantly, and hadn’t woken up when Roman had carried him several blocks. 

“What happened?” 

“Well uh… that’s complicated.” 

“My brother is unconscious at eleven thirty in the morning.” he gestured. “Explanation. Now.” 

So Roman explained. It sounded even more ridiculous being repeated back. 

Virgil stared for a long moment, then turned to go back into the bathroom. Getting to his feet, Roman followed, watching Virgil’s face in the mirror as he methodically finished applying the dye to the parts of his hair that previously had been bleached. Long streaks up his ponytail, and almost all his bangs. Finally, he put the cup of dye down, and turned around to face Roman. 

“You know the most unbelievable part of all of that?”

“Is it Mr. Foster attacking Andy? That’s the part I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around.”

“No, it’s that you actually didn’t know his name until now!” 

Roman gave an offended gasp. 

“Didn’t you ever take his name for a coffee before?” Virgil went on. 

“He had his own mug!”

“And no one had to call it out, ever?” 

“Uhm. I guess I may have just… not … heard it?”

“You are too gay to function.”

“Frequently.” Roman laughed weakly, then jumped as someone knocked at the door. “Are you expecting someone?” he asked Virgil

Virgil just gestured at his dye filled hair, clipped up away from his skin, as if to say ‘does it look like it?’ 

As Roman sidled towards the door, he pulled a sword from the umbrella stand as he passed. Peering out the peephole, he saw Logan. 

At his front door. 

Oh, and Remus, who was looking down the hallway warily. 

Roman unlocked the door, opening it. 

“Uh, did you follow me?” 

“No, Remus apparently put a tracking spell on you.” Logan sighed. “May we come in?” 

“Uh, yeah.” He stepped back, and they slipped past him. Remus’s eyes flicked down to the sword Roman was holding and he got the biggest smile on his face. It was a little unnerving. He locked the door again. 

“So who’s the damsel that you rescued on your way out?” Remus asked, as they entered the living room. Virgil stood in the entryway to the kitchen looking at their guests warily. Roman was pretty sure that he was standing there because it was closest to the largest number of knives. Roman didn’t put the sword down, but he did put the sheath back on. 

“That’s my brother.” Virgil said, shoulders tense. “Okay, I’ll give you this, he does look like your twin. That’s some impressive shit, whatever is going on.” 

“What happened at the Café?” Roman asked. It was then he realised he was still wearing his apron, and he took it off sheepishly. 

“I threw a table and knocked a display case over. Also something that was brassy and had lots of levers.” 

Roman winced. That was probably the cappuccino machine, which was just shy of being registered as an antique. 

Remus pointed at Andy’s sleeping body 

“D’you want him to still be asleep? I mean, that sleep spell won’t hurt anyone, but it will throw off your sleep schedule like a bitch.”

“Circadian rhythms.” Logan said, and he was doing something on his phone, which probably would have given someone who wasn’t used to the SCA some cognitive dissonance. 

“Yeah, bug cycle.” Remus agreed, and from the look he threw at Logan he was just trying to wind him up. Logan’s lips tightened but he didn’t say anything. Roman and Virgil exchanged looks. They’d known each other for a long time, so the flicks of eye and eyebrow lifts said a lot. 

“Yes.” Virgil said at last. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah, but so can Roman.” 

“What?”

“I don’t know anything about magic.” Roman protested. “I mean I know what I saw, but I’m not one hundred percent sure I believe in it.” 

“I regret to inform you that it is, in fact, very real.” Logan looked up from his phone. “And if you can skip the step I had where I fought the realisation with every scrap of logic I could muster, it would save you a great deal of time, of which you may not have.” 

That sounded ominous.

“Okay, I’ll bite, what am I supposed to do?” 

“Well I suggested it because I thought it might help you come to grips.” Remus said, perching on the end of the sofa. “C’uz of the prince thing.”

“Prince?”

“Yeah. You’re the Crown Prince of Sanders.”

“I’m  _ what _ ?” 

“Well look at that, Ro.” Virgil drawled. “Prince already. And you’re not even concussed.”

“Shut up, you’re still the queen of love and beauty, asshole.” He looked back at Remus “So I’m a prince, I guess. What does that have to do with it?” 

“So give him a kiss.” Remus prompted. Virgil gave a laugh at Roman’s expression.

“He’s practically my brother.”

“So what I’m hearing is I don’t get a kiss either.”

“What the fuck.” 

“Before you get yourself twisted up.” Logan said calmly. “You could probably kiss him on the cheek or the hand; which is almost certainly what Remus is suggesting. Though Remus seems to kiss most people so I might be mistaken. If you care for your friend’s virtue, you should probably do the kissing.”

“I  _ absolutely  _ told you about Janus. There is no fucking way I didn’t.” Remus grumbled, sounding annoyed. 

“I do not recall you mentioning you had a lover at any point.” 

“Do you two need a minute?” Roman asked. “To work whatever…” the part of him that had been hopelessly crushing on the mysterious coffee shop man- Logan- was sinking to his feet, because really, the day wasn’t complicated enough.

“No, there’s nothing to talk about.” Logan said to his phone. 

“ _ Thank you _ Roman, I appreciate that.” Remus answered and slid off the couch’s arm to kneel in front of Logan, and took his hand, making Logan look annoyed but he didn’t pull it away. “Okay, so we have sixty seconds or whatever the fuck so keep it quick, Logan. What the ever loving fuck is wrong? I’m sure I told you about Janus. You told me about that guy you used to hook up with and that strikes me as prime exchanging kissin’ gossip real estate.” 

“The difference is that I have not, and  _ would  _ not kiss him in front of you-”

“Uhm... “ Remus looked over his shoulder at Virgil and Roman who were staring at them. “Just real quick, what’s the relationship norm around here?”

“... boy and girl?” Virgil offered.

“Monogamy?” Roman said at the same time.

“Monotony! That’s the culprit!” He kissed Logan’s knuckles. “I’m not, and if you are, I’m really fucking sorry for hurting you like that.” 

Logan sighed, and let Remus keep holding his hand. 

“...I will accept that apology. However, you really need to talk to Roman now. There is a great deal of information you need to tell him and at the moment I am doubting your ability to do that efficiently and coherently.” 

“That’s fair.” Remus kissed the back of his hand again, then let go and turned back to Roman. “So, right- just like that, if you want to give it a go.”

“Andy is a pretty deep sleeper, but he really should have woken up by now, so it seems pretty unlikely that simply-” He picked up the sleeping teen’s hand and kissed the back “would do anything.” 

Andy sat up with a gasp, blinking and pulling his hand out of Romans’ grip. He had never woken up that quickly in all the years Roman had known him. 

“What the fuck?” Andy asked, and then looked between Roman’s shocked expression and Remus’s smug one. “... what the actual fuck.” 

“It’s kinda a perk of the job.” Remus grinned. “A prince- or princess’s kiss is a basic curse breaker.” 

“I would really like to know what’s going on?” Andy said, curling up into a tight ball at the opposite end of the couch. 

“Yeah, you’re not alone.” Virgil snorted. “And make it quick, I gotta wash this out in a half an hour.” He gestured at his head. 

“I’ll go first, and don’t interrupt me; it’ll go faster.” Remus did that thing where he straightened his back at Logan was reminded that he’d been raised to be royalty. “So- adjacent world that you’d call fantasy, full of magic- Roman and I were born there, and when our father, the king, died, Mom moved here to keep us out of politics until we were old enough to handle that. In the meantime, she remarried, and that conflicted with her remaining duties as regent. I don’t know how, but Arthur managed to block the Cut she used to go back and forth between here and Sanders with Roman on this side, and me and Mom back in Sanders. Blah blah a bunch of complicated politics- the point is a dragon in a human suit took over the throne of Sanders, so I went looking for another Cut to try and get Roman back, since I’m the spare, not the heir. Instead I got trapped in a tangle trap; that’s a kind of magic- which had a component part on this side. Logan found it and got it open, freeing me- there was a lot involved in that; and Janus, who I’m gonna lay out here has been my companion since my balls dropped, thanks and we’re in an open relationship- and who’s also a mage used the last of that magic to send us here, to Roman. That guy in the coffee shop? He’s a Marked Mage that went missing before Mom did.  _ He’s from Sanders _ . And he knew where Roman was the whole time and didn’t even send a gods damned message, so pretty fuckin’ suspicious in my opinion.” Remus took in a deep breath. “How’s that? Good?” 

“I have so many questions.” Virgil said faintly. 

“...is… is Mom alive?” Roman asked.

“The last time I saw her she was.” Remus admitted. “But we were kind of actively being pursued by the king’s guard, and there’ve been a lot of limits put in on Marked Mages recently. Janus got caught while I was gone and they tried to skin his tattoo off him to disrupt his mark.” Remus went silent then, face crumpling with guilt and sorrow. Without meaning to, Logan reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked like he wanted to pull the comfort back, but the grateful look Remus threw him made him leave it there. Drat. He really seemed to have caught actual feelings for him. That was inconvenient. 

Roman had his head in his hands, elbows balanced on his knees. 

“I… I… oh my god.” He burst out. “Dad knew. He knew you were real, and he convinced me I made you up. I thought I was  _ crazy  _ for most of highschool. Wait, am I an illegal alien?” 

“Nah, you’re an alien  _ prince _ .” Andy laughed, half hysterically. “Even better.”

“I’m gonna have words with Dad.” Roman shook his head. 

“Man, being an alien would be so cool.” Remus breathed. “So?”

“So what?” Roman asked. 

“Are you coming back to Sanders with me, or do I have to knock you out and drag you bodily?”

“Whoa there, back the fuck up.” Virgil took a step towards Remus. 

“Well I’m pretty sure I just lost my job, and my Dad’s been lying to me,” Roman said weakly. “So running away from home to join the rebel army sounds like a pretty great idea at this exact moment.” 

Before anyone could say anything else there was a knock at the door. Everyone went silent automatically. 

“Roman?” came Mr. Foster’s voice softly. 

“How did he know where you were?” Remus demanded at a whisper. “The only traces on you were mine and a remnant that felt like Mom?”

“He’s my boss!” Roman shot back . “He’s got my address on file!” 

“I know you’re in there, kiddo. You’re really predictable, and you took Andy.” There was a soft sound, like someone resting their head against the door. “I know it looked really bad, but you gotta believe me, I’d never hurt you.” 

Roman swallowed a few times, and stood up. He took up the sword again, letting his hand run over the hilt and sheath nervously. Then his expression calmed. He made a hushing gesture at Remus. 

“What did you do?” Roman asked tremendously, like he was scared. 

“Just a little sleep spell. Nobody got hurt, everyone landed soft, I checked before I left.” 

“Sleep spell?!” Roman let a little hysteria seep into his voice, but his face was completely calm. “That’s insane! Who’s Remus!? Why did he look like me? Is this… is this some kind of joke?”

“No no nono!” Mr. Foster’s voice sounded genuinely upset, but then, so did Roman’s. “It’s... it’s kind of hard to explain. Can you let me in?”

“I… I don’t think I should.”

“I really can’t explain this through a door.” 

“I’m not letting you in, what if you do that thing again?!” 

“I’m really sorry about that!” There was another little noise, as if he’d knocked his head against the door. “I would have woken you right up and explained; but you ran!”

“Of course I ran!”

“Don’t you trust me?” 

Roman wanted to- he’d known Mr. Foster for years- he’d gotten a job at the CAT Café right when it opened, while he was still in college. Mr. Foster had always been kind and understanding, giving him time off whenever he asked, and paid sick leave and a living wage. He was an ideal boss, and a really nice guy. The idea of  _ not  _ trusting him felt crazy. 

“Who’s Remus?” he repeated instead. 

“He’s your twin brother, of course. The Duke of Sanders.” Mr. Foster said. “But you knew that, didn’t you? He’s told you that already, since he’s in there with you.” 

Everyone in the room went still. 

“Roman, buddy, I really need you to let me in.” cajoled the friendly voice from the other side of the door. 

“No.” Roman said firmly. 

“Then I’m really sorry about this, too-” 

Roman braced, expecting something violent. Like the door blowing open. Instead, Mr. Foster’s voice came again. 

“Andy? Andy sweetie, I know you’re in there. It’s me, Mr. Foster. Won’t you please let me in?” 

And Andy blinked slowly and got to his feet.

“Andy?” Roman asked as the teen pushed past him. He grabbed for him, and Andy kept moving forward, sliding out of his hoodie, and unlatching the door before Roman could get ahold of him. As the door opened, Andy collapsed again, and Mr. Foster caught him easily with one arm. The silver haired man lifted one hand and blew a sharp breath over his palm. Roman stumbled back as if hit with gale force winds. Taking a step into the apartment with Andy draped against him, Mr. Foster turned his hand so the paw print tattooed on his palm was visible. 

“ _ Sit _ !” 

Roman’s legs collapsed under him and he heard bodies hit the floor behind him. 

“ _ Stay _ !” 

“Shit!” Swore Remus, but Roman couldn’t even turn his head to look, unable to anything but stay where he was, staring at the paw print. Mr. Foster closed the door behind himself, and shifted Andy into an effortless looking bridal carry. 

“I can explain everything if you’ll just give me a chance.” he said earnestly, moving down the entry hall. Roman was suddenly made aware that while Mr. Foster had always given the impression that he was soft and cuddly, he was over six feet tall- taller than Roman, in fact, and thick with muscle. That combined with the magic had them all very much at his mercy. Which until that exact moment, Roman wouldn’t have thought was terrifying. Suddenly, whipping out of the kitchen like an avenging emo angel came Virgil with a very effective left hook. Mr Foster hit the wall and bounced off.

“What the  _ fuck  _ did you do to my brother?” Virgil screamed, planting a bare foot on the older man’s neck. Mr. Foster stared up at him, then closed his eyes slowly, and raised his hands to lie on the ground next to his head. Suddenly, Roman could move again and he leapt to his feet. Virgil looked like he had it handled but he was really getting sick of this magic stuff. It was not as much fun as he’d always pictured. 

“He’s fine, he’s just rebooting.” Mr. Foster said softly. “He’ll wake up any second now.” 

“I’m ready to believe in magic.” Virgil said without looking at Remus. “Is there anything we can do to keep him from using it?” 

“I can lay a counter charm on him, but it won’t last long, he’s strong. Honeytrap, do you see a marker around somewhere?” 

“Don’t call me that.” Logan snapped, but grabbed the sharpie that was still clipped to Roman’s discarded apron. Remus ducked under Virgil’s leg and yanked Mr Foster’s shirt up, baring his chest. He yanked the pen’s cap off with his teeth, and scrawled something over the blue heart that was tattooed off center on his chest. Mr. Foster winced a bit like he’d been struck again. 

“You’re very good at that, Remus.” He said weakly. 

Andy sat up. 

"Shit again? Wait, what'd I miss?" He demanded. 

“You guys got any rope around? Or cuffs?” Remus looked up at them “No judgy I don’t care what you two get up to-”

“We’re not dating.” Virgil said flatly. 

“Really? Why not?” 

“I have some duck tape and parachute cord, one second.” Roman ducked into his bedroom and got his armor kit. Remus looked at the slender rope suspiciously, but gave it a yank and rolled Mr. Foster over, binding his arms together with efficient loops. Virgl peeled off a hunk of tape. 

“Should we gag him?” he asked. 

“If we gag him, he can’t answer questions.” Logan pointed out. “And if you do not, I have several for him.” 

“How did you get mixed up in this anyway?” Mr. Foster asked Logan. “You seem too smart for this mess.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Foster.” Logan smoothed his doublet down. 

“What about bribery? Free muffins?” he smiled brightly, glasses askew, and one lens cracked. 

“I think we are well beyond baked goods.” Logan said seriously. “He used his hands a great deal. Wrap his hands in the tape, flat palm to palm.” 

“Good idea.” Virgil knelt and did so. Mr. Foster grimaced a little.

“This is uh, kinda uncomfortable, guys.”

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you enchanted my little brother.” Virgil wrapped another layer around his hands. 

“Give me a hand here Roman.” Remus directed, and between the two of them, they got Mr. Foster to his feet and into the living room, where he was put on the edge of the couch. 

“Alright-” Virgil flicked his pocket knife out and open. “I’m feeling the least friendly, so why don’t I start.”

“Virgil, please don’t threaten my boss with a knife.” Roman reached out and pushed his hand down gently. 

“Yeah, use a sword!” Remus said enthusiastically. 

“Do we have to threaten him?” Andy asked, biting his lower lip, and clutching his hoodie to his chest. “Can’t we just ask?”

“Thank you Andy.” Mr. Foster said, looking a little relieved. “I appreciate that. Remy’s got your laptop behind the counter, by the way, so just ask for it.” 

“Wait, what did you tell Remy? Or the rest of the patrons?” Roman asked. 

“Oh, I told him there’d been a robbery, and you ran off after them.” Mr. Foster said immediately. 

“Fuck.” Logan said with feeling. The last thing he needed was his appearance linked to a robbery. 

“Oh! But you don’t have to worry! All anyone remembered was a bland white guy,” 

“What about the passing out?”

“Oh no one remembered that at all. Just the robbery.” he smiled. 

“Surely you had security cameras that the police will ask for?” 

“Why would I call the police?” Mr. Foster asked sunnily. “They didn’t get anything but the tip jar, so they must have been really desperate. If they felt the need to do that, I’d rather let them have it, and make up the tips to my employees. The cappuccino machine may be a lost cause though.” 

“What?” Logan said, utterly confused. “That’s ridiculous.” 

Roman rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

“No, everyone will believe that. That’s what happened when we actually got broken into last year.” 

“And anyone who knows you would believe you tried to play hero.” Virgil rolled his eyes. 

“Ah, before we get further,” Logan got Virgil’s attention. “You said you needed to wash your hair out?” 

Virgil checked his phone. “Oh yeah, I do. Damn it.” 

“If you have something I could write on, I can take notes, or we could wait until you got out?” 

“Nah, I’m gonna be a bit if I want the dye out.” the ends of his hair had come loose in the scuffle and were dying patches of his shoulders and neck purple. His bangs, luckily were firmly held in place with a large crocodile clip. Ducking back into the kitchen, he emerged with a ballpoint and a notepad, which he passed to Logan. “Logan right?” 

“Yes. Have we met?” Logan asked. “I’ve been thinking you look familiar.” 

“Yeah, back in like, January, I think? We were taking a class.”

“Oh yes. The pole dancing incident.” 

Roman’s head whipped around. 

“Pole Dancing?” he demanded. “ _ Virgil _ , pole dancing.”

Logan looked a little embarrassed, as Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. 

“I feel I‘ve said the wrong thing.” he muttered apologetically. 

“Ugh, well it’s out of the bag now. As long as you don’t have pictures, go ahead at this point.” Virgil headed into the bathroom with a vague wave of his hand. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have much information as to why Virgil was in the class; but we were the only two men in it, and got grouped together.”

“I wanna hear why you were in a pole dancing class.” Remus piped up. 

“I was given a gift certificate from a coworker. I suspect it was intended as a joke, but no learning is wasted. It was… fun. An excellent aerobic work out and it was magnificent for the core muscles.” He took his phone out again, and scrolled through the camera roll. “I do not have any pictures of Virgil, as our acquaintanceship did not get that deep, but he took one of me at my request, so I could show Lyra.”

He turned the phone and got a chance to observe Roman and Remus side by side, as they stared at it. Remus smiled delighted at the image, whereas Roman was obviously trying to hide both his smile and his blush. Remus poked his finger at the image. 

“As hot as this is, I just wanna point out- your not-a-boyfriend missed the fact that they were in front of a mirror, and those are some very small shorts.”

Blinking Roman looked past the pose and bland expression held by Logan and into the reflection and yes, that was definitely Virgil, holding a phone and wearing shorts and a tank top. After living with Virgil for almost ten years, he was pretty immune to his friend’s body in most states of dress, but he had to admit, it was a look, and Virge was very pretty. 

“You’re in very good shape.” Roman told Logan, with barely a squeak, handing the phone back. He was sure his blush was visible though. 

“Thank you, I make an effort to be so. I normally attend the gym in the morning before coming to the Café.” he looked at the photo himself. “I don’t know I’d be able to do that at the moment, I have been missing my regular workouts since getting pulled into this mess.” 

“A couple of days won’t throw you off!” Roman assured him. “I mean I saw you on Friday, regular as ever. Ten forty-five. Cranberry-raspberry muffin.” He added before realising that might sound a little creepy. 

“Ah. What Remus didn’t mention was due to the tangle trap, he was missing for almost a year, and I experienced a month’s worth of time.” Logan put his phone away. “Which leads me to one of the questions I wanted to ask your friend there.” 

Distraction over, everyone turned to Mr. Foster, who tried to give a disarming smile. 

“Don’t mind me, boys. Take your time, we’re all friends here.” 

Remus snorted, and flung himself into a chair, making it creak ominously. Roman settled in on the other end of the couch from Mr. Foster, and Andy perched on the back behind him.

“Mr. Foster, were you responsible for this?” Logan pulled out the mossy green volume that had anchored the tangle trap. Mr. Foster’s expression dropped from smiling to blank, and behind his glasses, brilliant blue eyes caught the light in the same way Remus’s did when he did magic, with none of the hidden pain. 

“That was never intended to be opened. That was- because it’s broken now- one of the most insidious looking spells I’ve ever seen.” He blinked and shook his head. “I don’t think I  _ could  _ have cast that, buddy. And not only that, I didn’t and wouldn’t if I could.” he sighed explosively. “There aren’t many mages that  _ could _ , honestly.” 

“So why are you running a coffee shop here?” Remus asked. “Don’t be shy, you’re definitely strong enough to find a Cut if the one you came through got blocked off.”

“The one I came through was artificial, and not very well constructed, honestly. It only lasted long enough for me to fall through.” Mr. Foster explained. “I was looking for Roman for your mother, but when something went wrong, I thought… I thought it would be better if I just kept an eye on him here.”

“You knew my mother?” Roman asked. 

“Sure did! She mentored me!” he smiled at Roman and shifted in place trying to get comfortable with his arms tied behind him. “The Circle of Mages supported her, or they did when I left.”

“That’s true.” Remus put in. “At least about Mom being his mentor. He was the go between when we were in hiding, since he was further advanced than Janus.” 

“How is he?” Mr. Foster asked brightly. “When the Cut closed behind me, I started to get concerned; especially without any messages from the Circle.” 

“They’re catching Marked Mages and forcibly removing their marks.” Remus said, and Mr. Foster winced. “So, who could ruin a Cut spell, and make a Tangletrap that strong?”

“Gee.” Mr Foster bit his lip thinking. “The first people who come to mind are in the Circle. Some people from outside of Sanders, certainly. Ahlldri’s always produced some terrifying magic, especially artifacts. If I wanted to get one made and was really unscrupulous, I’d go to the Fae.”

“Fae can make them?” Logan asked

“Fae make the best traps, because it’s bred into their magic.” Mr Foster said seriously. “But if you can afford the price a Fae asks, you’re probably not going to get what you actually wanted.” His eyebrows drew together and he studied Logan for a long moment. 

“What about the King?” Remus leaned forward, eyes narrow. 

“The Usurper?” Mr Foster looked confused, attention turning to Remus. “I guess he could order someone to acquire it from the Fae.” 

Remus suddenly cackled. Andy jumped, grabbing ahold of Roman’s arm. 

“Holy Shit; have you really been that out of touch?” 

“Well, I’ve been busy running a Café?” Mr. Foster joked. “Did something happen? Did something happen to your Mom?” he surged forward a little, rocking on the edge of the seat. “Was- was there a distortion when I left, how long has it been?” He looked back and forth between Roman and Remus, as if cataloging differences between them. 

“It’s been like six years.” Remus told him. “Mom disappeared maybe a year before I went looking for Roman? It was right after we found out the Usurper was a dragon.”

“What the ever loving fudge.” Mr. Foster said quietly, eyes huge behind his glasses. His eyes flicked back and forth, like he was thinking and putting together information. “A Dragon?” 

“You were looking for me?” Roman asked. 

“Oh yes!” Mr. Foster jerked out of his thoughts to nod at Roman. “When I found the Cut was gone without even a trace, I thought I’d better make some sort of base; and the last trace of you I’d found was in this city. Then I cast an attractant for people who were feeling lost and at odds to the world.” He smiled fondly at Roman. “I just about had a heart attack when you were like the third person to come in. You looked so much like Remus, only different. And giving you a job let me help you and keep track of you at the same time.” 

Roman shifted uncomfortably in place. Something felt off- it might have just been an uncomfortable feeling of nepotism. Was Mr. Foster paying him more than he was worth just because he wanted to take care of him? 

“You weren’t even the only person from Sanders and other Adjacent worlds that came in. I met a couple expatriates.” for some reason that word made him grin. “And a whole lot of the LBGTQ community; I was so frustrated by how they were being treated, I made the Café a place for them to come.” 

“Why didn’t you send a message?” Logan asked, taking notes carefully. 

“I couldn’t find an open Cut.” Mr. Foster sighed. “And I looked too- something’s been blocking off connections from this side, and opening blocked Cuts is a lot more dangerous than creating artificial ones.” He frowned a little bit. “Besides; something had interfered and got me trapped here. I didn’t know who I could trust in Sanders.” 

“Weak.” Remus scoffed. 

“I know.” Mr Foster said a little sadly. “I didn’t say it was the right thing to do; I just said it’s what I did.” He looked at the twins, noting that they cocked their heads in a similar way while listening. 

He’d only met Roman a few times before he met him as an adult; back when his hair had been brown, not silver, when he’d been a young mage intimidated by his mentor and her royal children. She’d even brought him to her home in Florida once. The idea that she had disappeared and left the rebellion behind was horrifying; especially since he’d been looking for Cuts so she could return to Roman herself. If his hands weren’t tied behind his back, he’d check the ink on the inside of his elbow. It hadn’t filled in with black the last time he’d seen it, but maybe it was waiting for a connection to reopen between Sanders and Florida. He wasn’t about to ask one of them to check; Andy or Roman would think he was crazy, and Remus would know what it meant. 

Maybe it wasn’t unusual to have a death tattoo for your mentor, but certainly wasn’t normal either. But that would be a terrible way for Remus to find out if his mother was dead, and he owed Lupe’s sons better that. He drew in a deep breath, then let it go. The sigil Remus had scrolled over his Mark  _ ached _ . 

“So, did you fuck with my bro’s memories too?” 

“No! I may have dropped some… contentments on him from time to time but nothing worse than that!” Mr. Foster twisted a little so he could focus on the twins. “Roman never said anything about a brother, and I assumed that’s because he thought you were dead.” 

“No, Dad sent me to therapy until I thought I’d made him up.”

“That’s  _ terrible _ !” Mr. Foster said. “Never saw what Lupe, your mother I mean, saw in that man, I swear. Love I guess.” He shrugged awkwardly. 

“Backing up, what’s a contentment?” Roman asked. “Because that sure sounds like messing with my mind.”

“It’s more like an antidepressant? I use it on myself a lot. It just makes you feel more centered and less focused on things that are going wrong. It makes you feel content.”

“Sounds like mind control to me.” Andy mumbled nervously. Roman tapped his elbow gently. 

“Did you take your meds?” 

“Uh- … I don’t know. What time is it?” He checked his phone. “Uhm. I don’t remember if I took them this morning.”

“Go check, okay?” 

Andy shuffled out of the living room, looking back over his shoulder as he went. 

“You’ve done that to him too haven’t you.” It wasn’t a question. “This is going to sound stupid, but would that fuck with his meds?” 

“It shouldn’t. Little spells like that don’t interact with potions, and that’s the same principle. I wouldn’t give anyone potions irresponsibly.” Mr. Foster actually looked a little offended. 

“You didn’t tell me you fucking adopted.” Remus snorted. 

“Well we haven't exactly had time for a meaningful catch up.” Roman laughed weakly. 

“Ech that’s fair.” 

“Getting back to the matter at hand?” Logan suggested. “Given the situation with the long lost twin thing, I can understand that the two of you are in a state of distraction, though I’m starting to get the impression that that may just be a chronic state the both of you suffer from.” 

“Thanks it’s the ADD.” Roman said automatically, then flushed. He was distracted by Logan giving a small snort of laughter, the corner of his mouth curling up and nope, Roman was still exceptionaly gay for this man, and if that small smile he’d just seen was any indication it could get worse.

Which he would not have expected after he’d almost gotten used to how devastatingly handsome Logan was in what was essentially garb. In fact- Roman frowned a little bit, eyes looking back and forth between Remus (his  _ brother _ undeniably and that was a trip) and Logan- they were wearing similar, travel-stained clothing, which looked so similar to his favorite style of garb that he started wondering about cross-dimension twin mind meld.

“Once you recognised Remus in the Café, you immediately attacked,” Logan said, getting back on topic. 

“I wouldn’t call it an attack!” Mr. Foster protested. “It was just a suppression; Remus looked like he was about to do something rash.”

“Are you a cop?” Virgil emerged from the bathroom, now wearing a tanktop with his jeans and wringing his hair out into a different stained towel. He twisted it up around his head like a turban. “Because that’s some grade A bullshit.” 

“No, nothing like that I just-” he stopped himself. “It's hard to- I didn’t phrase that well. Gosh.” Mr. Foster squeezed his eyes shut. “I did over react, but it was harmless. If I hadn’t done something, people would have overheard and it would have gotten much more complicated. I could pull people out of the sleep net as easily as I cast it, and it’s easier to slightly alter people’s memories if they’re already entranced.” 

“Right.” He squished himself against Roman’s leg on the couch, pulling a tube of lotion out of his pocket, and applying it to the spots of purple that he’d acquired during the dying process, wiping the excess off with tissues, which got most of the dye transfer off. Roman took the tube and started doing the same thing on Virgil’s back without being asked. “Bullshit.” Virgil added. 

“I’m not at my best when rushed.” Mr. Foster looked incredibly uncomfortable. 

“But you do realise how incredibly bad that sounds, do you not?” Logan asked, tapping the pen against the end of the pad. 

“And you know, if you’d told Roman anything before hand, maybe you wouldn’t have been so rushed.” Remus pointed out.

“I don’t know how you would expect me to explain it without any proof.” Mr. Foster complained. 

“So you cast a suppression spell; and I’m guessing what Remus did was a counter charm to prevent it from affecting us?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Roman suggested you found him because you had his address on file, rather than due to any magical trick?”

“Also true. I had enough on my hands cleaning things up. But I knew he’d go home, and I couldn’t just leave everyone lying asleep in the Café. And that was just me knowing him.”

“I’m not that predictable.” Roman grumbled. 

“You are pretty predictable.” Virgil retorted. “Okay, so next war crime; what did you do to Andy?” 

“I am really starting to feel very awkward about everything.” Mr. Foster rolled his shoulders a little, wincing. 

“Awkward is the least of it.” Virgil glared. “Talk.” 

“That was mind control, or suggestion rather; Andy trusts-” He paused and winced, looking behind them to see where Andy was emerging from the hallway. “Well, he trusted me; so I just sort of … pushed him into a trance to do what I needed him to do. I don’t think I could do it again. He doesn’t trust me any more.” He looked both embarrassed and sad. “When you do a suggestion as strong as that, it’s like when you stand up too fast or that trick where you press your arm against the wall? The release kind of creates a swoon. Most mind control has a little bit of dizziness when it’s released.”

“It was a weird feeling.” Andy said quietly. “I don’t remember anything about being asleep, but I remember Mr. Foster calling for me and it being really important that I open the door for him, and then it was like fainting. I wasn’t unconscious but I wasn’t awake either.” He looked very upset, but added. “I don’t think he wanted to hurt me.” 

“Of course not!” Mr. Foster exclaimed. 

“The other two were command spells as well.” Remus told Logan. “It didn’t get Roman’s boy there because he wasn’t in line for the focus ink. So he disrupted the spell, and we probably could have broken out even if Patton hadn’t released it.”

“Who?” 

“Me.” Mr. Foster gave a kind of sheepish smile. “Patton Foster. I think given the situation you can call me by my first name, kiddo.” 

Virgil offered his hand in Remus’s direction. “I guess that makes it introduction time. I’m Virgil Loi. That’s my little brother, Andy. Since Roman forgot his manners.”

“Remus.” He took it and kissed Virgil’s knuckles, which made him wrinkle his nose. “My brother’s got good taste.” 

“Have to agree there, he’s been crushing on Logan for months.” 

“Logan is damn hot.” Remus agreed. Roman looked like he wanted to die where he sat. Logan’s face had gone still, and just a shade darker. After a beat, both Andy and Mr. Foster started giggling. 

“Is now really the time?” Roman asked desperately. 

“It’s always time to roast you.” Virgil looked back at his friend. 

“Noo, you have to be nice to me, I’m having an emotional crisis.” Roman buried his face in Virgil’s shoulder. 

“I don’t even have to work at embarrassing you in front of your crush.” Virgil prodded. “You do it on your own so well.” He did tip his head at Logan. “You I’ll apologise to, if I made you uncomfortable.” 

“I’m not embarrassed.” Logan said, though Remus recognised that certain stiffening of his neck as Logan fighting a blush. “Are there any more questions we should ask?”

“Honeytrap, can I have your permission for a bit of magic.” Remus waved the pen. “It’s a sigil, won’t hurt me I promise.” 

“I can hardly control you.” Logan sighed. 

“You could if you wanted to.” he said flirtatiously, and winked before getting to his feet. “I’m going to set a truth on you, Patton. It won’t last long, but you understand.” 

“I do, Kiddo. I wish you could just trust me without it, but I do.” He tipped his head up a little bit, baring his throat. Reaching out, he grabbed a hold of Patton’s hair, forcing his head back further, until Patton was leaning against the back of the couch with Remus straddling one leg. Remus pulled the lid off the pen again, and put the tip to the hollow of Patton’s neck, dragging it over the skin in quick sharp lines. When he was satisfied, he pressed his thumb over it for a second, then released Patton, returning to his seat. Patton swallowed a few times, the skin under the new symbol gaining color again. 

“Tell me a lie. Say you eat boogers or something.” 

Patton made a face. 

“I don’t want to say that. How about uh… Roman’s hair is purple.” He made a choking noise as soon as the sentence left his lips, curling up a bit. There was a flash of light from the symbol Remus had drawn. “Roman’s hair is red.” he straightened up, taking a deep breath. “Satisfied?”

“Yeah. Go on then.” Remus tapped the sharpie against his knee. 

“My name is Patton Foster. I am a member of the Circle of Mages loyal to the Kingdom of Sanders. I followed Lupe, the queen regent, both as a member of the resistance and as an apprentice in mage craft.” he took a breath, but didn’t seem to be recanting anything. “I didn’t create the tangle trap. I am loyal to the rightful heir, and only intended to keep him safe.” he looked directly at Roman. “On that note, I think I should probably take you off the schedule for a bit.” 

Roman gave a startled bark of laughter. 

“Oh no.” Patton said with a great deal of feeling. “I’m going to need to promote  _ Remy _ .” 

“As terrifying as that thought is, Mr. Foster,” Virgil nudged his leg with a foot. “If you’re spewing truths, I need confirmation that what you did is harmless.”

“Almost entirely.” He shifted his attention to Virgil instead. “No lasting harm for the amount of time that the sleep net lasted, the memory adjustment didn’t touch anything but short term memory, and that’s not set enough for them to take more damage than a little bit of deja vu, which isn’t even damage. The persuasion was more like lucid dreaming and sleep walking. Other than that the worst should be a couple of mystery bruises where people hit the ground.” 

“And the contentments you mentioned?” Logan asked, since Virgil hadn’t been in the room for that. 

“Right, almost forgot about those; like the sleep net is just putting some extra sleepy juice in their brains, contentments just put extra happy chemicals in.”

“ _ Melatonin _ and  _ dopamine _ or  _ serotonin. _ ” Logan put in, somewhat surprised at the almost technical terms being used for a magical spell. 

“That sounds about right, but what they actually are is more up to the body.” he paused. “A  _ lot _ of sleepy juice, applied directly to the consciousness.” 

“... do you take requests?” Andy joked weakly. Patton grinned at him, pleased. 

“I dunno, kiddo, seems like you’ve been on a constant quest for the opposite.” 

“Good point, can you do it in the other direction?”

“... that’d  _ kill  _ you.” he sounded appalled that someone would suggest it. 

Remus snorted, then started laughing, falling back into the chair with his arms wrapped around himself. 

“Holy shit I can’t believe I was worried. That beard had me fooled. You actually looked scary.” 

“That’s what beards are for!” He smiled brightly. “You scared me, honestly. After all this time, I’d almost convinced myself that the only reason anyone would come for Roman is to make sure he didn’t come back.” he leaned forward, trying to ease his arms. “I’m sorry for thinking that Remus.” 

“I think I’ve been very cool about this entire thing.” Roman said. “But I think I may faint now.” 

Virgil elbowed him sharply, making Roman yelp.

“No fainting; you’re cliche enough that we’d have to go over everything again when you woke up. I bet you’d even say ‘where am I’?” 

“I know, but  _ hey _ .” Roman grumbled and rested his forehead on Virgil’s shoulder. 

“Well that was a quick resolution.” Logan said blandly, putting his pen down. “Mr Foster-”

“Patton!” he insisted. 

“Patton then, if you were given the location of a blocked cut, would you be able to unblock it? Being as you are the only mage that we know of here. Remus at least needs to return to Sanders.” 

Patton thought about this, as Remus got his amusement under control.

“I’m pretty sure I could. Cut magic isn’t really my strong suit, but I could probably manage.” He gnawed on his upper lip for a moment. “I’d need to see the blockage, and it might need to wait for a certain time, or situation. Not to be a bother, but this is really uncomfortable, and my nose is starting to itch, so uh, if you wouldn’t mind untying me?” 

Everyone looked at Remus, Virgil noticed; except for Remus, who looked at Roman. Roman blinked at Remus then said 

“ _ I’m _ good with trusting him; it’s really weirding me out frankly.” 

“Very well.” 

Of the things Virgil would have expected, Logan pulling out a large knife and slicing the knot off the ropes smoothly was not on the list. Patton winced as the duck tape was pulled off his skin but rubbed the sore red patches on his hands without complaint. 

“I’m going to be the one to say it; What now?” Virgil asked. “Remus said something about Roman going back to Sanders with him? Is that… really a good idea?” He raised his hand to forestall any argument. “Hear me out- What would Roman be  _ doing _ ? What good would he do?”

“Thanks.” Roman grumbled, putting his forehead back on Virgil’s shoulder. “You always make me feel good about myself, my nightmare errant.” 

“There’s probably going to be  _ real  _ fighting Roman. With blood, and shock, and battlefield sepsis, and  _ death _ .”

“You have a good grip on the situation there, Virgie.” Remus leaned on the arm of his chair. “Wouldn’t expect that from someone from this world.”

“But… I think I have a responsibility,” Roman said uncertainly. “I mean, yeah, I don’t know if I’m actually suited to being a real Prince? But at the same time, it feels right. Like something I need to do. Like I’ve been waiting for it my whole life. My people need me.” 

“To do what?!” Virgil pulled himself free, and popped up to sit on the back of the couch, instead of sharing a cushion with his friend. “To be a figurehead? to die a horrible death?”

“Maybe a little of that first one, not the second one.” Remus put in. “If we can prove Roman is alive, then the king the council put on the throne is officially an usurper, instead of you know, being semi-legitimate. Combine that with the fact he’s a fucking dragon, and most of the kingdom should throw itself after Roman. I mean,  _ some  _ people like what’s going on, the bigoted dickheads who didn’t like magic, and the usurper’s cracking down on that- but that’ll be tempered by the fact I dunno, HE’S A FUCKING DRAGON IN A PERSON SUIT.” 

“Well, magically speaking it’s more like he’s transformed himself into a person shape; it’s not like he hollowed out someone and is wearing them.” Patton corrected, taking off his glasses and tracing a finger along the frame. The crack in the lens glowed slightly and mended itself. 

“Pity. That’d be way cooler.” 

Roman’s eyes looked a little sparkily. 

“This is the kind of adventure I’ve always dreamed about.”

“Yes, but it’s  _ real _ .” Virgil took a deep breath, held it and flexed his hands a few times before exhaling. “That’s… that’s … something. My best friend is going into a parallel dimension to fight a dragon-king and even if he survives he might not come back because he’s apparently supposed to be a  _ king _ . He might-” 

“Verge, breathe-” Roman said

“Breathe?! How am I supposed to breathe?” He covered his face with both hands, struggling to take exaggeratedly slow breaths, air hissing between his teeth. Logan looked at him sympathetically. 

“I could-” Patton raised a hand towards Virgil. 

“Yeah, maybe don’t.” Remus frowned.

“I wanna see it.” Andy offered. 

“Virgil? Can I help you out there?” Patton asked. “It’s kind of like medication, okay? Just take the edge off the wave. No wrong answer.” 

There was a long pause and then Virgil nodded once, breath wheezing out. Gently Patton touched his shoulder. Then Virgil went limp. Roman lunged forward while Patton jerked back.

“That shouldn’t have happened!” Patton sounded shocked. 

“He’s breathing.” Roman said, sounding relieved. 

“He can also hear you.” Virgil grumbled into Roman’s shoulder. 

“He’s okay.” Roman chuckled. “That’s my Emo the Grouch.” 

“I guess he was a little more panicked then I expected.” Patton said apologetically. 

“Don’t feel too bad, he’s good at hiding it.”

“ _ That _ was good at hiding it?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“You should have seen him in highschool.” Andy put in. “He hyperventilated into passing out like… once a month his junior year.” 

“Fuck off.” Virgil grumbled. 

“You okay?” Roman asked his friend, stroking his hand along Virgil’s still-damp ponytail in long movements like it was along a cat’s back. 

“Mnnn no but I think I’m okay with not being okay for the moment.” he let the contact continue for a few moments then pushed himself upright. “This is a weird feeling. 

“Again, Virgil has an excellent point, that a plan needs to be made. I have some notes.” 

Remus grinned at Logan, and Logan ignored it. 

“Item one: Remus and possibly Roman need to return to Sanders. Item two: reconnection with the resistance. Item three: political movement, violent or otherwise. Remus has said there was a Cut near their childhood home that got blocked off. So returning to their childhood home seems like a first step. Once found, Patton will most likely be able to reactivate it. Remus’s companion, Janus, should be waiting; I gather that the Cut connects their childhood home and their mother’s villa. That takes care of the first two items. At that point, further planning for point three can be resolved. Any planning beyond that; for Roman’s return home or his eventual taking of the throne can be put off until after the problem with the King- his deposition and or death- is resolved.” 

“I love listening to you talk.” Remus chuckled. 

“Possible complications;” Logan continued. “Patton and Roman both have lives here. Time progresses in Sanders the same as it does here. At absolute best if Roman goes there he will be gone a month. I suppose there is a possibility for his moving back and forth between the two. This is a revolution, however, so history suggests we shouldn’t count on anything. Patton might be unable to reopen the cut, so it may take time to find a different one. Roman might not want to go-”

“Uh, no, you can take that off the list. I’m definitely going.” 

Logan looked at Roman for a long moment, the intensity making Roman flush. 

“Very well. Though some time should be scheduled for discussion of that.” He flicked his eyes over to Virgil, who despite his magically induced calm still looked like he was about to go off on Roman. “Adjustment period- Roman hasn’t been to Sanders since he was a young child, many things are going to seem odd.”

“I can probably deal with that.” Roman said, trying to sound confident. “Like… improv. Just roll with things, and keep moving.” 

“You are going into a dangerous situation and your plan is a long running game of ‘Whose Line Is It Anyway?’” Logan protested. 

“I don’t know why you’re talking like living here is safe.” Roman pointed out. “Honestly, I’m mostly feeling bad at abandoning Virgil.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” Virgil retorted. “If you think I’m letting you go by yourself, you’re out of your mind.” 

“Hell Yeah! Field trip!” Andy cried.

“Not you. You’re staying here.” 

“Not fair! Also what the fuck; you barely trust me to eat breakfast and you’re going to leave me behind?”

“You’ve got college.”

“And I’d like to offer you a job at the Café.” Patton added gently. “With Roman gone, they’re going to need a new barista; and you’re familiar with the Café menu.”

“Is your leaving going to affect much?” Roman asked. 

“I don’t actually do the baking, that’s Steve.” Patton assured him. “I can promote the other manager and they’ll do the payroll and everything, Missy’s been doing most of it anyway, since they found me crying over a spreadsheet.”

Andy shifted back and forth in place. On one hand, he wanted to prove he was capable, on the other he was used to his brother being around as backup, and if not Virgil, then Roman. Roman had been there for him since their parents died, like an auxiliary sibling. 

“What about your job?” he demanded.

“I’ll quit. Princy here’s right that this world isn’t necessarily safe, but it’s safer, so it’s just picking the person in more danger to be there for.” Virgil made a tossing gesture. “It’s not like I was in love with it; and bartenders are easy to replace.” 

Andy worried at his lower lip, then sighed explosively. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll stay, go to college and I’ll take a job at the Café, and hold down the apartment for you. But I  _ will  _ be having parties, and after you guys have won a fucking revolution without me, I want to see this parallel world.” 

Roman snorted. 

“Sure. I’ll invite you to my coronation.” In the background, Remus let out a bark of laughter. 

Andy thrust his hand out, pinky first.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of it.” 

“I just want to know who you think you’re having parties with.” Virgil said with a smirk, as Roman hooked his fingers in a pinky promise. “Are we holding you back from making friends?”

“I have friends.” Andy grumbled. 

“Practically it wouldn’t make any sense for you to leave now.” Logan tapped the pen against the notebook. “Terminating your employment aside, how long do you think it would take you to put your affairs in order?”

“I haven’t an affair in over a year.” Roman sighed, then flushed as he’d realised what he’d said. 

“Noted.” Logan raised his eyebrows, as Remus and Virgil dissolved into further laughter.

“Part of me wants to talk to Dad, especially if I’m going to be gone for a while.” Roman admitted, trying to shift attention from his case of foot in mouth. “He hasn’t sold the house, just rented it, and I could find out if anyone’s renting it now.” 

“I’d say day after tomorrow.” Virgil said after a moment of thought, he looked at Patton, and the mage nodded. 

“I can be ready by then. If I set it before I leave, I can also arrange for a communication book to leave with Andy.” 

“What’s that?” Virgil asked. 

“Linked notebooks. Given how blocked they’ve been, it might be slow, but basically anything you write in one book shows up in the other. I think Lupe had one she used to communicate with the circle.” He rubbed his hands, one after the other. “They have to start in the same place; so since I didn’t have one I couldn’t use it to send messages.” 

“Interdimensional text messages. Nice.” Virgil nodded. 

Patton wrinkled his nose. “I think that phones would be a lot harder to set up. Because something would need to power and project the phones on the Sanders side. They’re just not set up for that kind of thing.”

“No, the book is good, better than I thought.” Virgil assured him, and pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna message my boss that I need to talk to him tonight.” He stopped, staring at his phone. “Huh. Weird. Not being scared of that feels funny.” 

“It should wear off pretty soon, especially if you keep doing things that would make your anxiety act up.”

“Then I’ll be back to normal any time now.” Virgil huffed, sending off the text. Logan was making a few more notes, then took a picture of the pages of notes on his phone. 

“I think that’s all the data I have on the situation, and some observations I had while in the nested fantasy world.” He passed the pad of paper back to Virgil, the pen clipped neatly onto the edge. “I hope that it will help with your preparations.” 

“Thanks. It’s nice to have another planner around.” 

“You’re welcome.” Logan offered his hand to Virgil, who shook it. “It has been an unexpected pleasure to reconnect with you.”

“I’d offer you my phone number, but looks like I’m gonna be out of service range for a while.” Virgil said. 

“Still, it is the socially acceptable thing to do.” 

Snorting in amusement, Virgil took the offered phone, and entered his number. A moment after he returned it, he received a text from Logan, featuring the picture from the pole dance class and the single line ‘mirrors’.

Virgil was suddenly kind of glad the calm spell hadn’t worn off just yet. Oh well, it was just Roman. And Roman’s not-quite-evil twin. And maybe Andy and Mr. Foster, okay the calm was definitely wearing off now. But the entire point had been to step outside his comfort zone. As opposed to what they were about to do, which was more like cliff diving out of his comfort zone. 

“I’m going to head back to the Café.” Patton said. “Roman, you don’t have to come back for the rest of your shift.”

“I can?” He offered awkwardly. 

“No, I think it’s better if you stay here and talk to Remus.” Patton scratched at the line of his chin. “With what you said about the therapy, I think you two should reconnect as much as possible. Heck, given I’ve been here for most of a decade, I’m sure I’ve missed a lot too. But I have a little more to handle. You should definitely expect Remy to start complaining at you any minute though.” He shook Logan’s hand as well. “It was a pleasure to meet you properly, Logan.” And with that, he was gone. The door had barely closed when Andy dashed out after him; taking Roman’s apron to drop off when he picked up his laptop. He had a class that afternoon. 

“It has definitely been an interesting morning.” Logan admitted. “And a very unconventional way to meet people.” 

“It’s not anything I’d pictured no.” Roman rubbed the back of his neck, too embarrassed to elaborate on how many different ways he’d picture learning Logan’s name, let alone getting to know him. “I’d uh… love to hear about what happened. You look like you had quite the adventure.” 

“Perhaps some other time; while your job may be forgiving, I’m sure there are many things you need to consider before taking a leave of absence, not to mention what I’m sure will be a private and awkward conversation with your stepfather.”

Roman made a face. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but it was definitely a thing that needed to happen. 

“Fuck you’re awkward.” Remus commented, and slid his arm through Logan’s. “Hey, honeytrap, can I talk to you for a couple minutes?” 

“I wish you’d discontinue that nickname.” Logan frowned, but didn’t pull away. 

“C’mon nerd.” He tugged Logan into the entry hall, and Roman politely decided to join Virgil in creating lists in the kitchen. 

“I can’t say I think that’s particularly better, but at least it has  _ different  _ negative connotations.” Logan said flatly. 

“You’re still mad.” Remus said, holding one of Logan’s hands between his. 

“I… I will admit I feel that perhaps you could have been more sure that you’d covered your romantic status.” Logan wasn’t looking at him. “I knew of course, that it wasn’t a serious sort of fling, but it still came as a shock.” 

“Janus aside. You did hold back. Because in the end, you’d go home. It’s not like you let yourself get attached.” 

“That's true.” 

“Counter offer.” Remus said, “Join in the adventure. Get to know Janus. Even if that doesn’t work out, it’d be a good chance to get to know Roman, who is like, next best thing; and is absolutely crushing on you.”

“Oh good, I can be a third wheel to two diffrent relationships at once. What a captivating suggestion.” 

“I’m just not ready to say goodbye yet.” Remus mumbled, playing with Logan’s hand, stroking the pads of his thumb over Logan’s fingers, curling and uncurling his fingers. 

Logan stayed silent for a few long minutes.

“I never said I wasn’t joining you.” he said at last. “I fear I’ve gotten emotionally invested in the outcome.” 

Remus looked up, meeting his eyes. 

“I have already called out of work for today, and contacted a coworker to help me arrange for a more extended absence. I couldn’t tell them why, of course, but I don’t intend to abandon you now.” 

“Putting your affairs in order.” Remus suggested slyly. “Well, I have some information for you. I do kiss my friends.” He pulled Logan in, and Logan let him.

Roman sighed dramatically putting his head on the table. 

“Life is suffering.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally gotten with the program on that.” Virgil poked him gently. Roman moaned theatrically in response. “But hey, maybe he has a type? You could still have a chance.” 

“I was right about the ridiculously hot, wasn’t I?”

“You were right about the ridiculously hot.” Virgil agreed, quietly laying out all the knives in the kitchen and examining them one by one. “The voice is a plus you didn’t mention.”

“I was sure I talked about how I would give a toe or two to hear him sing.” 

“That’s not creepy at all.” 

“I don’t need all my toes.” Roman countered, and finally stood up, leaning against the wall and watching Virgil. “... you don’t need to come with me, you know.” 

“Nope. I do. I don’t trust anyone else to keep you alive.” Virgil pulled out his box of whetstones, weighing it in his hand. It had been a present from Roman, a neat box of graded whetstones. 

“You’re even less equipped than I am to deal with this kind of thing; I at least took those classes in longsword technique.” 

“You know that box of knives that’s in terrible shape that I don’t toss?” 

“Yeah?”

“That’s because I do toss them.” 

“What?” Roman’s eyebrows came together, then rose as he realised what Virgil meant. “You know if you wanted to throw knives, I could get you some that are meant for it.”

“Nah, it’s more fun that way. Every knife is different. When Andy was like ten, we taught ourselves to catch and throw knives one summer.” 

“Like juggling?”

“Sure let’s go with that.” 

Roman gasped, and reached out to mess with Virgil’s hair. 

“Are you secretly badass?”

“It’s not a secret.” he poked Roman in the ribs. “You’re just unobservant.”

“I figured it was protective camouflage, like those frogs who pretend to be poisonous.” 

Virgil chuckled at that. 

“I’m going to pick out a sword for you to bring. Under no circumstances are you to take that shitty katana.” 

“My katana is not shitty!” Roman protested. 

“It is  _ terrible _ , and you spent too much on it!” 

“It was a gift!”

“I know.” 

“I will come back the day after tomorrow.” Logan told them. “Virgil can text me a more exact time. And we can see where we go from here. I gather the Cut is somewhat far from here; do you have transport?”

“We’ve got a car.” Roman confirmed. “Andy can’t drive anyway, so we can leave it near the house, unless it’s being rented. It might be a tight fit for the five of us, but possible.” 

“That’ll limit what we can bring to what can fit into the trunk.” Virgil pointed out.

“There isn’t much that I would bring, frankly.” Logan pointed out. “I’m mostly focusing on hygiene items that I found myself missing.” he touched his hair, as if reminded. “I’m going to have to see if I can get an appointment squeezed in.” 

“We don’t have a lot of resources, but you don’t need to worry too much about basic shit.” Remus put in. 

“I might suggest meeting at the Café, rather than here since it’s a central location?” Logan suggested. 

“I’m going to go with no.” Virgil said. “That’s awfully public.”

“If we leave openly it’s less suspect, as if we were taking a joint vacation.” 

“That’s… a good point actually. Of course, that’s a little weird.”

“Isn’t that a thing friends do?” Logan asked. 

“I went to a couple of camping events with people I barely knew in college.” Roman pointed out. 

“Your experiences are so far from universal, Ro.” Virgil sighed. “Gave me fuckin’ nightmares. He’d just get into the car with people he talked to once on the internet! They had knives!”

“We  _ all  _ had knives!” Roman protested. 

“That only makes it a little better.” 

“I see Roman’s outsourced his self preservation.” Remus snorted. “Cool! We have so much in common!” 

“Are you going to go with Logan?” Roman asked. 

“Nah, I’m gonna stay with you, so I can back you up when you call step-daddy-dearest.” Remus nodded to himself. “Maybe I’ll go crash with him tomorrow night.” 

“Try to let me know ahead of time if you do.” Logan said. “So I can bolt the door.”

“Aw, it’s cute you think that’d stop me.” Remus kissed Logan’s cheek. 

“I didn’t say what side of it you’d be on.” 

Remus absolutely cackled with glee. 

Logan shook Roman’s hand, then Virgil’s in a businesslike way, and accepted a relatively chaste kiss from Remus before heading out. 

“Did you uhm… work out what the issue was?” Roman asked. 

“Ech, it’s a work in progress.” Remus shrugged, and started sorting through the umbrella stand, finding a rattan sword, another two steel swords, only one of which was in a sheath, three umbrellas and two pry bars, one of which was made out of foam and amused the hell out of him. “So can you use a sword, or just clubs shaped like one?” 

“I’ve done some live steel work.” Roman defended himself.

“Please don’t kill each other in the apartment.” Virgil groaned. 

“He’s right.” Roman grinned. “We’ve got yard rights so we can do it there. Let me get another couple swords and my shield.” 

Their apartment was more like a double duplex, a medium house divided into four large apartments and had a small, scrubby back yard. One of the other tenants had children and used it the most, so they had to take a moment to shift toys out of the way. But given that it was just past mid-day, no one was home. 

“It’s not like I don’t know that this isn’t like steel combat.” Roman said, as Remus looked at the duck-tape wrapped weapon dubiously. “But the armor’s cheaper, and live steel doesn’t compete for crown.” 

“So you’ve been hitting people with sticks, pretending that they’re swords, and competing to win the crown to a fictional kingdom? I got that right?” Remus asked, swinging the sword in a loose arc. 

“YES!” yelled Virgil, who was leaning out the window above them. “And you can fucking break bones with those, so be careful! Fuck.” his volume dropped. “God made two of them.” 

Roman blew him a kiss, and settled into his stance. He didn’t have enough armor for both of them, so they were going to be pulling blows. It was incredibly dangerous and reckless, but at the same time, it sounded like fun. Remus had offered to let Roman be fully armored, but he’d turned him down. 

“Lay on, you idiots!” yelled Virgil from the window. They started circling each other. Roman had gone over the rules of SCA combat quickly for Remus, who had agreed to abide by them for now. His sword snaked out and bounced off Roman’s shield, as Roman came down low as he blocked towards his twin’s leg. The leg wasn’t there any more, but Roman hadn’t really expected that to work. He spun to catch another blow, as Remus moved around behind him.

“Hey, watch it with the blows from behind; rules remember.”

“Pfft Rules.” 

A blow glanced off his shield and hit his leg. Roman yelped and withdrew a few paces. 

“Glance.” he decided and dove in, swinging his sword again. Remus didn’t have a shield, and was wielding a sword in hand and a half style. He was wearing Roman’s new metal gauntlets as a compromise. Roman could really see a great deal more of the swordwork class in how Remus moved than most SCA combat. He snaked around the sword and landed a strong rap on his upper arm. 

“Yeow!” Remus danced backwards shaking out that arm. 

“I’m calling good!” yelled Virgil. 

“Aw, I can still use it!” Remus whined. 

“Play the game!” 

“Fine.” he shook his arm out again and tucked it behind his arm. “You’re better than I thought.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“Oh you shouldn’t.” He got faster, laying a thunderous blow on Roman’s shield and then whipping his sword around again. Roman grunted as it hit his leg and he took a knee, raising his shield up and narrowing his eyes.

“Give up?”

“ _ I’ve _ got both arms.” 

Remus giggled. “For now.” Despite his best effort however, he couldn’t manage to get through Roman’s guard, despite his limited mobility. Blows glanced off his shield, his sword, and Remus kept just barely moving out of the way. Finally, Remus snuck the tip in and shoved sharply at Roman’s collar bone, knocking the wind out of him. He dropped his sword and held up his hands, shedding the shield and gloves to prod at a rapidly forming bruise. Remus leaned on his sword. 

“Okay, that was way better than I had any expectation for. You might actually survive a real fight.”

“Peachy.” coughed Roman. 

“These things really are clubs. Whippy too.” he looked the rattan sword over again. 

“You should see the polearms.”

“Ugh.” 

“Hard same.” Huffed Roman and managed to get to his feet. 

“Are you finished? Because I’m sure starting a magical adventure with a collarbone that needs isolating is a wonderful plan.” snarked Virgil from the window. 

“But soft, what snark from yonder window breaks?” Roman yelled back, tossing a gesture at his friend. “I thought you were doing something?”

“And miss this show and inevitable blood bath? I’ve known Remus for like two and a half hours, and I know he’s going to need a witness for when he accidentally murders you.” 

“I love making new friends.” Remus grinned, stretching his back out slowly. 

“I also need to know if I need to hide your body, smart ass, so-” 

“I like him.” Remus told Roman brightly. 

“Yeah, he’s a real emo of mercy.” Roman pulled the edge of his t-shirt up and wiped sweat off his face, then a little further to inspect the bruise already forming on his chest. “Went out and got himself all cert’ed up in first aid a couple of years ago. He said it was the first step to a new career but I really can’t picture him as an EMT; too high stress.” Roman grinned, and picked up the live steel blade instead. “These are for stage combat, so they’re more for hitting each other than anything else.” Remus took up the other one and played with it, testing the flexibility. “We should still be careful, even though they’re dull.”

“It’s a pretty good practice weapon. I’m more of a blunt object or cutlass person. Do you have any real weapons?”

“These are the only ones that aren’t sharp, at this point.” Roman shrugged. 

“Alright then.”

They started again, this time with a bit more caution. Roman got the impression that Remus would be going faster normally, but was still testing out how capable he was. Which he supposed he could understand; for all that Remus had come to find him specifically, Roman didn’t have any kind of concentrated martial arts training; he’d approached it as a sport after he stumbled on LARPing in High School, and his Stepdad had always disapproved for some reason. Roman couldn’t help but wonder if this was the reason, or if his stepdad had done a similar set of convincing himself that there hadn’t been anything unusual about Roman’s mom. How much had he known? How much had his mom told him? He had to have known  _ something  _ or he would have just said that Remus died with his mom, since he’d always been told that his mom had been killed in an accident during a hurricane. 

The steel swords clanged together, blows getting faster and harder to the point where Virgil wasn’t sure he wanted to call them out on it in fear that they’d slip up, and have to waste their afternoon in a hospital. But at the same time, it was kind of mesmerizing. He could see the moves that Roman had learned in the long sword class he’d taken. Remus by contrast was much more fluid, but he was slightly slower, which was probably how Roman was keeping up, all things considered. This round ended when Roman managed a disarming technique, twisting the sword out of sweaty hands. For an instant Remus looked like he was going to leap after it, but then he stopped with a similar gesture of surrender. 

“I am so fucking glad you aren’t a useless fop.” 

“Excuse you, I am a highly skilled fop.” Roman panted. He had more bruises on his forearms, above his gauntlets, but there was an actual tear in Remus’s blouse, one on a sleeve and one where he’d barely dodged a body blow, which he felt a little bad about, because it was a very nice shirt. 

“It’s like ninety eight out there, come in already, you dumbasses!” Virgil called, and slammed the window shut. 

“Well, you heard the boss.” Roman wiped his face off, took his gauntlets off and wiped his hands as well. Remus meanwhile hauled off his entire shirt, after flapping his collar a couple times. 

“Has Florida always been this hot?” 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

“Ugh, I feel like I’m swimming with none of the nudity.” he whined.

“What the actual fuck.” Virgil said softly with feeling as they trooped back in. He’d mostly gotten used to Roman, but somehow standing next to a virtualy identical person who was completely shirtless made his sweat-soaked shirt seem nearly transparent, and reminded Virgil that there was a muscular body attached to his idiotic freind. Remus caught him staring and grinned, winking flirtatiously, and (hopefully) flexing. 

“You can have the first shower.” Roman offered, pulling a bottle of gatorade out of the fridge. “I can loan you something to wear for now. I mean, looks like we’re the same size.” 

“And you are absolutely showering because you both stink.” Virgil added. “Also you’re sweaty.” Roman beaned him with the bottle on his way past. 

“C’mon be nice to my long lost twin- what if he’s evil?” he added in a sotto tone. 

“Don’t be silly. If I was the evil twin I’d have a goatee, wouldn’t I?” Remus smoothed his mustache. 

“Roman as evil twin confirmed.” Virgil smirked. 

“I - you- that was  _ one  _ winter, you walking man bun.” 

“Took you all winter too.” 

Deciding not to rise further to the bait, he led Remus to the bathroom, pointed out which products he should definitely not use- made easier by the three tiered caddy in the back of the shower, and determined that Remus did, in fact know how indoor plumbing worked, which he thought was a perfectly reasonable question. 

Virgil had his first aid kit spread out on the kitchen table now, going through it to make sure it was well supplied. Maybe they wouldn’t need it, if there was magic, but he would rather that he brought it and didn’t need it. He heard someone behind him, but assumed it was Roman, one of the few people who had behind his back privileges, especially when they came closer quietly, and he could smell a cloud sandalwood soap and a hint of bergamot as a hand came down on the back of his chair.

“Did you use my shampoo again?” he demanded as he counted alcohol wipes. “This is why we got that damn caddy, Ro.” 

“So how long have you guys been together?” 

Virgil jumped a mile, almost vaulting the table. Remus retained his casual lean on the chair, his other hand loosely holding the towel at his waist. He seemed amused at the knife that was pointed in his direction. Since he didn’t seem to be a threat, Virgil put the knife down. 

“Don’t sneak up on me.”

“I just walked up.” Remus defended himself. Virgil let himself look for a second, cataloging the differences; untended nails, scars paler on tawny fawn skin, a collection of bruises in various states of healing, slightly wider shoulders, the wet trails of red auburn hair sticking down past his collarbone, the swipe of silver hair, and unsettling dark red eyes. And the mustache, of course. “Good reflexes other than that, though.” 

“I mind you using my shampoo even more.” Virgil said flatly. Remus chuckled. 

“You didn’t answer my question, though.” 

“We’ve been roommates for like… seven years now I think. Maybe eight?” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Remus chuckled. “I asked how long you’d been fucking.”

“We’re not together.” Virgil snapped. 

“Why not?” 

“Virge is-” Roman came in with an armful of clothing. “Well, at least you’re wearing a towel.” 

“I can take it off?” Remus offered. “I mean, if you’re into that?” 

“Ew.” Roman said flatly, which made Remus dissolve into laughter. “Here, these should fit. And I found my sewing kit, so I can fix your shirt before we wash it.” 

Despite his threat, Remus gave the towel an extra roll and tuck before accepting the bundle of clothes, and held out his hand for the kit. “I can fix it myself, you don’t gotta bust out guest manners for me.” 

“Alright then, I’m gonna grab a shower real quick. If you hear me screaming, that’s just me accepting my life now, and or hitting bruises.”

“Please, you’ll forget what’s bothering you and start singing Disney as soon as you get under the spray.” Virgil teased. 

“I hope so.” Roman turned and headed back down the hall. The bathroom door slammed. 

“If you drop that towel you’d damn well have something underneath it.” Virgil growled quietly before Remus could say anything. 

“Oh, trust me, I do. Wanna shop around?” 

“Are you... Serious, because I don’t know you well enough to guess, and you were doing that thing with Logan, and you said you had someone back in your hometown, so I honestly can’t tell.” He crossed his arms over his chest tightly, glaring at Remus. He smirked at Virgil’s discomfort for a moment, then shrugged. 

“Nah, not really serious. I mean, Roman clearly has taste, but I am just fuckin’ with you, not trying to fuck you.” 

“What If I’d been straight?”

“... what if I’m a ninja turtle? Straight men don’t have quite that much interest in other men’s navels.” 

Virgil coughed, a bit of color coming up in his cheeks. 

“I was looking at the scars.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” 

“Can you…. Not? It’s a little uncomfortable at this point.” 

Remus gave a little shrug, and took himself into the living room, out of Virgil’s direct line of sight to change. Virgil took a few deep breaths, biting his lips. Great, it was time for his regularly scheduled bout of rexamining his feelings for Roman- fuck that he’d already done that this week, he wasn’t going to go over it again. It’s not like he was pining or any bullshit. He’d been all for Roman hooking up with hot coffee-shop-man, and now that he’d met Logan, he was even more on board with it. That would be awesome, and if it put Remus out a little, well, that would only be a bit satisfying. 

Virgil never claimed not to be petty.

Remus looked almost normal in jeans and a t-shirt. There was a sticker on the shoulder, which indicated Roman had never worn the shirt before, but since it was green with silver and gold glitter text reading ‘Never-Again Land’ in the Peter Pan font coming out of a rum bottle, it was probably an impulse purchase from the back of his closet. Having dressed, Remus had come back into the kitchen, Virgil having sat back down in the chair facing the doorway like a sane person. Virgil offered him a drink like their previous conversation hadn’t taken place, and Remus took it before starting to sew up the tears in his shirt with fast, tiny stitches. 

“So what’s the rest of your suit made of?” Virgil asked, packing bandages back into the bag. “Is it dry clean only or what?” 

“Don’t know what that means, but it doesn’t need washing just yet.” He flapped a hand and turned the shirt right side out to look at it. “So, Roman dresses up in fake armor and play fights, does he have any clothing? I mean, something that wouldn’t look weird.”

“I have no idea what weird would be like where you’re from.” Virgil admitted. “But his play-clothes look a little like what you and Logan were wearing?” 

“Nice.” He crinkled the gatorade bottle in his hands, taking occasional sips now that his handwork was done. “What about you?”

Virgil wrinkled his nose. 

“Not so much. I guess if that’s what we’re going for I could borrow his other set.” 

“... is Roman close to our step dad? I mean, have you met him?” 

Virgil closed the first aid kit and snapped the closures. 

“I’ve met him a couple times.” 

The year after his parents had died, Roman had invited him and Andy to spend the holidays, and they’d run into each other a couple times while they’d been in the dorms. Virgil tried really hard not to have an opinion on Arthur one way or another. But there had been just a faint awkwardness, a vague feeling that something was off- and Virgil had ended up taking Christmas Eve shifts at the bar and going out for regrettable chinese food with Andy instead of sharing the Pryce holiday. Last year, Roman had stayed in the apartment too, and put up entirely too many decorations. Not that he hadn’t over decorated the place for the entire month of December before, starting from when he came home from Thanksgiving- sometimes Virgil and Andy would attend the meal and then Virgil would go home to work the night shift. Arthur and Maggie had been nothing but bemusedly welcoming, and their son Morgan was cute, so it was probably the nagging knowledge that Arthur was a police officer that made him uncomfortable. 

Roman had managed, somehow, to forget that his Dad was a cop until Andy and Virgil arrived, which had been a barely averted disaster. Roman had been contrite enough to offer to leave with them, so they wouldn’t be alone on Christmas; but after the panic attack Virgil could almost let it go. It was tactless and tonedeaf, but he could say this for Roman- while he sometimes missed connections, Roman learned, and he cared. In the end, however, Virgil had to  _ explain _ . 

He still felt weird that he felt traumatized, given that he hadn’t even seen it. The cop who’d shot their parents was in the wrong; raceblind and overenthusiastic, and while even department admitted it enough that the civil suit had barely been a blip of denial, it didn’t make them any less orphans, or Virgil any less of the opinion that all cops were bastards. Arthur had been contrite, apologetic and made no excuses for the murderer. He didn’t even work in the same country as the one who killed his parents. Virgil accepted that Roman’s dad was trying to be a ‘good cop’ and somehow that turned his stomach more than cops who didn’t even pretend to care. 

Sometimes it bothered him that Andy seemed to be coping so much better, when he’d been the one at home to get the call. He’d gotten in touch with Virgil, and hadn’t broken down until his brother had. Together they’d gotten through the lawsuit, and dealing with their parents' estate, such as it was, and setting up in the large apartment they shared with Roman. Despite all his fussing, Virgil was pretty sure that Andy was better adjusted, more capable, and smarter than he was. Andy would be fine. He started writing down a list of passwords for his various accounts, starting with Netflix, then Roman’s Disney+ account, and moving down the list towards the bank and the cellphone bill. In the bathroom, he heard Roman start singing Nicki Minaj if not at the top of his lungs, at least loudly. Virgil smirked down at his notebook. Speaking of people who would be alright.

“I realize it’s been like, two decades, but there’s no fucking way that’s from a Disney movie.” 

Virgil laughed before he could stop himself. 

By the time Roman came out of the shower, he’d half concocted a Disney princess story for Nicki Minaj. He wasn’t sure if Remus believed him, but he wasn’t sure he didn't believe him either, so he counted that as a win. 

“It’ll be fine, Shadow the Edgelord.” Roman assured Virgil. “You can go to work. You may pretend to think that text can handle anything, but I know you’ll feel better if you talk to Mr. Bruce in person.” 

“Yeah, but-”

“I can handle talking to Dad on my own. It might even go better this way.” Roman was lying through his teeth. He had no idea how this conversation was going to go down. But he wasn’t going to put it off, either. He’d put it off all afternoon, instead just talking to Remus, mostly about when they were young, before they got seperated, reconciling the memories that he’d been convinced were fake as real. Letting a strange little thrill of hope grow up in his chest- his mother might be alive. He might see her again. That it wasn’t his fault. 

If she wasn’t dead, she hadn’t gone out into the storm looking for him and drowned. It was on the list of things that were going to take some getting used to. 

“Go see if you can get like a leave of absence or something.” Roman repeated, nudging Virgil’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure you’re his favorite bartender.” 

“We have to at least pretend we’re coming back.” Virgil mumbled, doing the pocket dance, making sure he had his keys, his phone and his wallet.

“We’ll come back.” Roman said firmly. “You’ve read as much world hopping fiction as I have. They always come back.” 

“Except when they don’t.” Virgil countered, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. 

“They do in the good ones.” 

“Okay, fine! But if anything else happens, text me, okay?” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give a full report when you return!” Roman gave a sarcastic salute. Virgil shoved him but left. 

The next distraction came in the form of a text. 

RandomExcessMemery> bitch what’s this about a family emergency? >B[

crowningaround> I had a family emergency.    
crowningaround> I can’t come into work for a while.    
crowningaround> What’s so confusing?

RandomExcessMemery> in the middle of a shift?

crowningaround> that’s how emergencies typically work

Roman watched the ‘is typing’ dots for a moment, while Remy decided what to say. 

RandomExcessMemery> honey, do you need anything?

crowningaround> what?

RandomExcessMemery> do :clap: you :clap: need :clap: help?   
RandomExcessMemery> did I start talking french?   
RandomExcessMemery> tu salope en vie ou quoi?   
RandomExcessMemery> didn’t think so, nope the stupid’s on you. 

crowningaround> sorry, just kind of confused that you’re offering to help.

RandomExcessMemery> i’m the other kind of asshole, girl. 

Sighing, Roman shook his head, and responded. 

crowningaround> I’m good. I’m probably going to be away from my phone, though so…

RandomExcessMemery> where the fuck you going, narnia? 

sonofadam> shit, you caught me out. 

RandomExcessMemery> well bring me a prez, and I’ll cover your shifts.

sonofadam> pretty sure it’s not my job to bribe you into that.   
sonofadam> but I will. 

RandomExcessMemery> damn right you will. <3   
RandomExcessMexmery> and if you need help, let me know. 

Roman was tempted to prompt Remy to take care of Andy, but was pretty sure that would come off as more worrying than casual. 

sonofadam> so Andy got a job at the Café. 

RandomExcessMemery> virge’s minime is entering the workforce?    
RandomExcessMemery> well it was bound to happen. 

sonofadam> just don’t let him do espresso shots like shots, 

RandomExcessMemery> don’t tell me how to live my life, bitch. BD   
RandomExcessMemery> I will properly induct him into the ways of the caffinavore

Roman sniggered at his phone. He was going to miss Remy’s colorful personality. He’d come back. It was fine. 

“I still can’t believe you never asked Logan for his name.” Somehow, Roman wasn’t surprised that Remus was hung up on that detail as well. Remus and Virgil had gotten on entirely too well- at least when it came to roasting him. 

“Shut up.” 

“I mean, it’s basic manners.”

“It’s a different situation!” Roman spat, setting his laptop up on the coffee table. “You can’t just… hit on someone while you’re working.”

“There is a huge difference between getting someone’s name and offering to stick your tongue down their throat.” He flapped a hand. “Let’s get on with this, shall we? Not that I haven’t been enjoying the insights into your life, but I think you’re stalling.”

Guiltily Roman rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Only a little. I texted Maggie and she said he was on swing shift, so it’s not like we could call until now anyway.” 

“I can’t believe he remarried. And to someone named  _ Maggie _ .” Remus made a face.

“Maggie’s nice.” Roman countered. “And he did wait for like six years, even though she’d been declared dead. But…” he sighed. “I’m gonna agree it’s a little hinkey if he knew Mom was just… elsewhere.” 

“Look there are so many questions I wanna ask dear old stepdad, so he is very lucky that you wanna do this via-” he waved his hand at the computer. “Best way to keep his teeth.” Remus paused thoughtfully. “No, wait, he could keep them, just not in his mouth any more.”

“I need a few answers myself.” Roman admitted, gut churning. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like them. He waved a hand. “Sit over there for now, ok? I’ll cue you to come in.” 

“Drama~” sang Remus gleefully, and plopped down on the far end of the couch, out of view of the camera. Normally, Roman would use his phone for facetime, but he thought that maybe the laptop would be better. 

His Dad got online, and he went to connect. 

“Hey, Ro.” Arthur Pryce’s hair was more gray than black these days, but he was still pretty fit, not giving into the fat cop stereotype. Roman had given him enough time to change and eat something, so he looked pretty relaxed. “Maggie said you wanted to talk to me? Normally you call earlier than this. Morgan’s already in bed.”

“No, that’s okay. I wanted to talk to you. Tell him hi, of course.” Roman ran his hand through his hair, and tried to pick what to say. “So, uh… how are things?”

“Things are fine.” 

“So uh, I was thinking about the house in Ahlgreen.”

“The house? Oh, the one you grew up in.”

“Haven’t sold it yet, have you? Anyone renting it?” 

“No, no one’s renting it right now. If you got a real job, you could buy it off me. I’ll sell it for what I paid for it in the day.” he grinned. “I could put in a good word for you if you wanted to-” 

“Wow, that’s tempting.” Roman admitted, cutting him off before he could suggest a career in law enforcement. Again. “I uh, kind of have a sort of…” he looked over at Remus, who was doing his dead level best not to laugh. “Job offer? In that area?”

“Really? Not much work out in the boonies.” 

“Well, yeah, that’s the thing I’d be… commuting?” He took a deep breath. “This is… really awkward. I was… I’ve been thinking about Mom.” 

Arthur’s face went still. 

“There’s no chance she’s still alive Ro, you know that.” 

“Well that’s the thing, I don’t know that. And neither do you.”

“I loved your mother, Roman. We did everything we could to find her, but she’s gone.” 

“I know you did. And I know you love me. But you lied, Dad. You lied a lot.”

“What did I lie about?” he demanded. “Don’t play games with me, Ro.” 

“Well… for one thing.” he made a beckoning gesture, and Remus flung himself down next to him, practically in his lap. “I have a twin brother?” 

Arthur’s face went red, then white.

“Remus.”

“That’s me.” He grinned at the screen, looking a little more down than Roman, not being used to where the camera was. “Nice to see you remember me, daddy. Given you erased my fucking existance.” the jovial tone in his voice dropped at the end of the sentence. He kept an arm over Roman’s shoulders. “Couldn’t even kill me off like you did with Mom? Was I that terrible? Don’t get me wrong, I was a little shit.”

“I didn’t-” He swallowed, and looked over his shoulder. “I didn’t kill her.” 

“I know. She was still alive last time I saw her.” 

Roman didn’t know what emotion he’d ascribe the sea-sick expression that crossed his stepfather’s face. 

“What happened, Dad?” Roman asked, desperately. “I am literally begging you for an explanation.”

“Lupe she… Roman, listen. Come home. We shouldn’t talk about this like this.”

“Sorry Dad, but I love you enough to keep you and Remus separated. He’s pretty pissed.”

“I wonder why.” Remus shifted enough that he could clean his nails with a knife. “C’mon, daddy give us a nice bedtime story.” 

Arthur got up from where he was sitting; apparently he was on his phone, and the camera tried to adjust as he went out onto a patio, shutting the door firmly behind himself. 

“I didn’t mean to separate you. You have to believe that. All three of you were supposed to stay. Lupe kept taking you away. You’d be missing for days, sometimes for over a week. And then you’d all be back like nothing happened. I couldn’t… I was so scared you’d just never come back. I wanted to keep you safe.” 

“A likely story.” Remus growled. Roman nudged him, and he rolled his eyes. 

“It’s the truth, if you want to believe it or not. So… someone with the same accent as your mother came to talk to me while you were gone. While I was stuck there, trying to pretend like there was nothing wrong and my wife and my children hadn’t vanished off the face of the earth, like they apparently did. They told me that where you were going was dangerous. I mean, I don’t know if I understood everything. Lupe had shown me some magic, so I couldn’t not believe. She was magic. Everything about her.” for a moment he looked wistful. “I wanted to keep you safe, and if where you were going wasn’t, well it made sense to make sure you couldn’t go back any more. They told me about the portal in the backlot that she’d use to move back and forth. They gave me this… box. It looked kind of like a music box. It was supposed to block the portal, but it had to be activated while it was open.” he rubbed a hand over his face. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to, even then. Then there was a storm. It was a fucking hurricane Roman, and she had no buisness taking the two of you out in it, even if she didn’t intend you to be in it long. You remember the storm; it hit the Gulf pretty damn hard. Probably would have gotten a lot more attention of Katrina hadn’t come along later.” 

He did remember it. Roman wasn’t afraid of much. He liked the idea of being brave and strong like a prince, being able to be there for other people. Hurricanes however turned him into as much of a worrywart as Virgil, especially if they were going to be bad. He could remember his mother’s voice bleeding into the wind, and rain pounding on his face. Come to think of it, it was a little odd how little he remembered of his actual childhood. The memories of before his mother’s ‘death’ were always just a little foggy around the edges. 

But Roman did remember the storm, as much as he remembered the grief- grief that his Dad seemed to share- of his mother’s disappearance. He could remember his Dad going out into the backlot looking, and the town helping, search parties on foot and on little boats for the grassy wetlands it bled into. 

Searches that found nothing, and searches that he, as a kid, was not allowed to take part in, trapped in his own house and immediate yard with a local retired school teacher, who decided that the best thing for a busy mind was to make it more busy, and doubled down on his homeschooling. He remembered feeling alone and bereft. Vocabulary and penmanship were the teacher’s favorite subjects, and Roman remembered his enthusiasm as a kindness, even if he didn’t want to be distracted from his pain and worry.

“She would say that I couldn’t go with her, that I’d hate it there, no matter how often I asked. I tried to talk her out of going that night; tried to convince her she could wait until the storm was over at least. Lupe talked over me, said I couldn't understand, and I had to trust her. I  _ wanted  _ to trust her; your mother was beautiful, and mysterious and stubborn and that was all just part of her charm. So she went, even after I begged her not to, and my mind made itself up, that that was the night.” Arthur was fumbling at something out of the shot, and what it was became clear when he put a cigarette pack up to his mouth and pulled one out, fumbling the pack away before lighting it. “I followed her- and the two of you- out into the storm, to the portal. I’d only really seen it once before; when Lupe first came through, harried and scared, with a baby in each arm. It was the kind of storm that’s hard to move in, really something, so I thought if I disrupted the portal before she went through, she’d just think the storm had done it.” He took a deep draw on his cigarette. 

Roman covered his mouth with one hand. It was one thing to think about, but to see his Dad just… admitting that it was true. Telling him the story of how he’d fucked up, how he’d torn their family apart. It felt like he was watching a movie. This wasn’t his story. Except that it was.

“I guess it took longer to work than I thought, or something, I mean, hell, what do I know about magic. Lupe saw me, and she got mad. We had an argument; I think it might have been the worst we ever had, and it was the last one too. Even though the portal was looking weird she grabbed you boys and headed in just as a storm surge started, and I grabbed for her, and got ahold of you- and tripped us both into the mud. And then there was nothing but the storm. I remember that you, Roman kept doing something with your hands, and crying harder and harder when nothing happened.” 

“You didn’t just close that Cut.” Remus said, voice very sharp and focused. “Mom never figured out how you did it, but whatever you did blocked every natural Cut between Sanders and this world. We spent years trying to find one that would get back to Roman.” He exhaled, and the sigh sounded angry. “So, I don’t suppose you remember who gave you that box? A name? A description. I just want to talk.” His smile cracked up a little further than was strictly sane, and Roman could have sworn he heard Remus’s jaw creak as it clenched. 

“He had a tattoo. There was a giant moth in full color spread out over his collar bone; his name was... D something” He finished his cigarette, and started another. The camera shook. Roman realised that his Dad’s hands must have been shaking. “Dolos maybe? No… Dorian. I’m pretty sure he said Dorian. His hair was the same as the moth, all browns and creams and reds in streaks. Long like a hippie or some shit.” 

“Dorian.” Remus repeated, settling back into the cushions. 

“Anyone you know?” Roman asked, looking over at him. 

“It sounds familiar.” he shrugged, rubbing his chin. “The Mark too, but…” 

“You’re leaving, aren’t you, Ro.” Arthur sounded defeated. “That’s what you meant about a job offer.” 

Roman tried to think of something reassuring, of anything he could say. But he was still numb. It didn’t matter that Arthur had had the best intentions, or that he’d loved Roman like his own flesh and blood. He didn’t think he’d be able to think of his Dad the same way again. 

“Yeah. I am.” He swallowed. “You lied to me, Dad. You made me think I was crazy.”

“I just didn’t want you to- I couldn’t-” he was scrabbling for excuses. “I wanted to protect you.” 

“Is that why we moved? So there wouldn’t be anyone around who remembered Remus? So you could make me think my brother was something I made up? What made you think that was a good idea?!” Roman covered his face with his hands. “I didn’t want to leave without telling you, I wanted to know if you had a reason, but. I don’t think it helped.”

“I’m sorry.” Arthur repeated weakly. 

“I know you are.”

“And it may not matter to you, Remus, but I’m sorry for what happened to you, too.”

“It doesn’t.” Remus worked his jaw like he was chewing something, looking into the distance. “But I’ll tell Mom when I see her again.” 

Arthur winced. There was a long silence, and they could hear the night animals over the line. Finally, he finished the cigarette he was smoking, and stubbed it out. 

“Do you still have your keys? From when you were a teenager?” 

Roman uncovered his face, eyes a little red. 

“Yeah, why?” 

“One of the keys was a key to the house in Ahlgreen. I don’t know how you plan to get through the portal if it’s blocked, so. It’s empty.” The silence filled up the space between them again. “Are you going to come back?” Arthur asked. “Am I going to lose you too?” 

Roman frowned, holding back tears in spite of himself. He wanted to be mad, but his emotions had percolated into a nasty bubbling stew of just upset, and he cried when he was upset. It was a habit he’d never managed to break. 

“I don’t know.” he said. “We’ve got Patton; he’s a mage, and he says he might be able to unblock it.”

“Pat? That kid that followed your mom around like a puppy? He’s around?” 

“You remember Mr Foster? My boss? It’s a small world, after all.” Roman gave a theatrical grin. 

“What’da’ya know.” Arthur said quietly. “I can’t stop you, can I?”

“You absolutely cannot.” Roman said, upset bubbling towards annoyance. “And if you try, I’ll… I don’t know what I’d do, but-”

“ _ I’ll _ kick your ass. Go on. Give me an excuse.” Remus broke in. “Please.”

“Mess, please.” Roman shook his head. Remus looked oddly touched. No one outside his family had ever called him that, just his Mom and Roman. Roman remembered. Even if he was messed up with whatever Arthur had pressed on him thinking that he’d made him up, Roman still remembered.

“Meh, alright. Since you busted out manners and shit.” he settled back into the couch, hands tucked behind his head.

“Just come back, Roman. There’s no real shame in failing, you know, and you have a home here. You don’t have to play hero for someone else’s fantasy.” 

Roman shook his head. 

“Thanks Dad, but no. I’m not going to fail. I can do this. I can be the person that people need,  _ because  _ they need me.” This time when he smiled it looked a lot more genuine. “And it’s what I always wanted to be.” He leaned forward. “Bye Dad. Thank you for not… not trying to lie about it. For finally telling me the truth.” 

“I should have told you a long time ago.” Arthur shook his head. “You’re still going to be my son, you know? You’re still Morgan’s big brother. I’m not going to tell you goodbye. Don’t think of it as going home. Your home is here.” 

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Roman hung up, and shut his lap top, folding over his knees. 

“Ro, you okay?” Remus asked quietly. 

“I…” He looked up, and he was definitely crying now. “I guess? I’m mad and sad at the same time. There’s a word for it, I think but all I can think of is ‘smad’” 

“D’ya want a hug?” he offered awkwardly. “Your raccoon buddy isn’t here, but-” he reached his arm out, and Roman took the invitation pressing his face to his twin’s shoulder. “There you go. Let it all out. Snot is very healing.” Remus wrapped his arms around Roman, and rubbed his back, alternating it with little pats. Andy found them like that a half an hour later, Roman’s tears having slowed but not stopped. 

“Holy shit, you weren’t a caffeine-induced hallucination.” he said, staring at Remus, who laughed. 

“No, but that sounds  _ awesome _ .” 

“Heavy latino feelings time?” Andy asked, gesturing at them. Roman lifted a hand just enough to laggardly flip Andy off. “Cool, I'm gonna order pizza. You look like a pineapple kind of guy, Remus.”

“I do like pineapple…” 

“How could someone in my family say something so horrible!” Roman railed, smacking the shoulder his face wasn’t pressed into. 

When Virgil came home, he found Roman in his bed. Roman blurrily woke up when he was poked. 

“How’d it go?” Roman yawned, as Virgil exchanged his jeans for sweatpants. 

“Surreal.” Virgil shook his head. “Bruce says I can come back whenever I can. I sold him on some story about a family emergency, and I had to leave the country.” He tapped his phone against his chin. “Not one hundred percent sure that he did have one of those unconsciously racist moments, since I’ve never fucking mentioned any family besides Andy before.” He flapped a hand. “You know, big old Chinese families with ties to the mysterious orient.” sitting down on the edge of the bed, he plugged in his phone and Roman fell against him. “Course I do know he’s got like a ton of familial ties somewhere down in Mexico, so it could be more of a you expect what you’re used to. How about you?” 

“Mine is a wicked stepfather, and all cops are bastards.” Roman groaned theatrically. “Also Remus likes hawiian pizza, so he’s dead to me.” 

“That didn’t last long.” Virgil snorted. 

“I’m trying to give you the full report.” he whined. “I’m in a fantasy telenovela.”

“Also my room. Go away.” 

“Nope, sleepin’ in here, Remus’s in my room. I figured that’d be better than having him surprise you or Andy on the couch in the morning, or sticking him in your room.” 

“Yeah, that wouldn’t have gone well. You can sleep on the couch.” 

“But I’m already heeere.” Roman whined, wiggling into the blankets. He flung his arm around Virgil’s waist. 

“Needy brat.” Virgil flopped down. 

“Hey Virge?”

“What?” 

“Thanks.”

“Shut up.” He patted the side of Roman’s head. Roman was already starting to snore slightly. 

Andy seemed excited and terrified in turns that he was going to be loose from Virgil’s mother-henning, which made sense, but was holding himself pretty even. Weirdly he was getting along very well with Remus, who’d been awake when Roman had stumbled out, sprawled on the couch in another one of Roman’s t shirts. He was pretty sure Remy had bought it for him, since it was black with a unicorn farting a glitter rainbow under the phrase ‘God Won’t Let Me Die’. When Roman went into his room to dress, he was pretty sure Remus had been up for a while, since his room was an unfamiliar mess. He’d plainly gone through Roman’s entire room, since he had one of Roman’s SCA blouses and embroterity kit tossed on the couch next to him, adding small details around the cuff and collar in an anxiety-inducing freehand. Andy was half reading a book, and half looking up and watching. There were coffee mugs next to both of them. 

“Oh goodie, you’re up!” Remus said brightly. “We can get some practice in. Andy says that it gets really hot about mid-day, so we should do it before then.” 

“Practice?” Roman asked, a little uncertainly. 

“Uhduh?” Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m hardly a swordmaster, but you can stand to get a bit better before we shove you in the deep end where the carnivorous fish are.” 

“This is part of your scheme to put yourself first in line for the throne isn’t it?” Roman asked, and then for a second regretted it- but Remus seemed to catch the joke after a second of horror, and grinned. 

“Don’t be silly, Ro- if I wanted to take you out, you’d never see it coming!” 

“... I’m making breakfast, Andy did you eat anything or just coffee?”

“Had toast.” He flipped another page, and Roman frowned. 

“Wait, isn’t that the… what was it… tangle trap? Is that  _ safe _ ?” 

Andy’s eyes flicked down at the book like that hadn’t even occurred to him and he set it down gingerly on the coffee table. Remus gave a burst of laughter. In Virgil’s room something hit the wall and there was a muffled cry. 

“FUCKOFF!”

“Yeah, it’s safe, I wouldn’t have left it about if there was anything left in it. It’s just a book.”

“It’s like one of those stupid books where you send in your name and they find replace.” Andy picked it back up. “Only you know, with a really good story. Fictional Remus and Logan have got it going on.” 

Roman’s stomach dropped a little and he waved a hand as he disappeared into the kitchen. “Well maybe I’ll read it when you’re done. I know how you devour books.” 

“It’s the escapism!” Andy said brightly. 

Despite Virgil’s lack of enthusiasm for the morning, he crawled into the kitchen for pancakes, which Roman tended to make when he had more time. By the time he’d worked through the stack and battled Remus for control of the syrup bottle, he was awake enough that he knew he wasn’t going back to sleep just yet. So instead he went back to getting ready. 

It took less time than Virgil would have imagined to get ready to abandon his life. Back when he’d been in highschool and everything had felt terrible and he had a lot less going on, he’d briefly entertainined the thought of suicide. Going to college seemed like a horrible burden, living seemed like too much effort so death had been an attractive option. But he’d kept putting it off, an endless stream of not-yets since he didn’t want to leave his family with a mess bigger than the one they were already dealing with (him) He had a notebook full of lists; things he needed to get done first, from boxing up his CDs so they could sell them to trying to squirrel enough money away so they wouldn’t be burdened with the cost of his funeral. There was even a draft of a letter imploring them not to pretend emotion they didn’t have, and just accept they were better off without him. 

In the end he never even tried. He never managed to keep up with everything he ‘had’ to have done before he could do it. He never even settled on the best way to do it. Instead, he had a couple of spectacular panic attacks about college, and his mother found the notebook- apparently keeping all his suicide lists in one place, however practical, did lead to an afternoon of terrifying reading for his poor mother. She asked him to try therapy first, and both she and his father made an effort to vocalise how much they loved him. It wasn’t until six months in he realised that they spoke the same love language, acts of service, and that could be very subtle.

Now, with bills and apartment and technical guardianship of his little brother- only technical because Andy was over eighteen- it took him less than twenty four hours to be ready to leave it all behind. The remaining time before they were set to meet up loomed in a terrifying way Tumblr could not distract from. He kept drifting back to watching the twins get to know eachother again. Fortunately for his blood pressure, Remus had agreed to run drills with Roman instead of just flinging themselves at each other. They’d moved the couch out of the way, and had those horrible practice swords that left welts, and Remus was busy picking his favorite youtube sword tutorials. Remus and Virgil had had a strange bonding experience when they went through Roman’s sword arsenal and rated them from worst to best. Virgil had nearly ruptured something trying not to laugh when Remus had threatened to break the stupid katana over his knee, just to prove how terrible it was, not accepting Roman’s argument about how it had been a present from a lover, derailing the impassioned speech that usually had Virgil giving up in boredom by declaring that anyone who gave steel that terrible as a present probably was a) terrible in bed, b) stupid, and c) wanted the recipient to die in a humiliating fashion. Personally Virgil knew the first two were true, and wouldn’t have been surprised at all in the last, given that Roman had been rivals for the male leads at the community theatre with him both before and after their relationship. 

In the end only three made the cut of ‘good enough’. A cutlass, a hand and a half sword, and to Virgil’s surprise, the recreation of Aragon’s sword that Roman had paid entirely too much for. 

There was a crash from the living room, and Virgil looked up from the book he was reading as Roman came barreling up the hallway to stick his head in the door.

“So, you know that lamp that never turned on and we just hadn’t gotten around to getting rid of? No longer an issue.” 

For Sanders’ sake, Virgil kind of hoped Roman would suggest a democracy.


	4. .Book Four.

They’d ended up meeting at Virgil and Roman’s apartment afterall, to avoid the confusion of all of them leaving together. 

Logan had shown up early, if not bright. He had gotten his hair redone, and he looked well rested, but not really awake. Since Patton wasn’t there yet, Remus made coffee and not too much of a mess in the kitchen. Virgil was not particularly impressed, finding it kind of thick and cloying, but Roman seemed to like it. Virgil just hoped that somewhere in the fantasy world people made coffee normally, and not in a way that made Virgil feel like maybe he should chew it on the way down. 

“Mr. Foster says he’s going to be here soon.” Roman said, looking up from his phone. “Ahlgreen’s a trek from here, so we should probably get going.” 

“Are your neighbors going to be confused about you putting a bunch of swords and bags in your car?” Logan asked, as they headed down the stairs. 

“Only that I’m doing it on a Wednesday.” Roman said, flashing a smile. “Taking my swords for a drive is more a weekend activity.”

“He’s serious,” Virgil commented. “It’s not unusual.”

“Ba ba ba, ba ba ba-” Roman sang under his breath, fitting the bags into the trunk of the KIA hybrid he and Virgil shared. 

“Hi!” Roman jumped a little bit as what he’d assumed was a passerby stopped. “I’m sorry, kiddo did I startle you?” 

In retrospect, it should have been obvious who it was, for one thing, why would someone be passing by with a gym bag at nine in the morning- for another, most people didn’t have long silver hair. But Roman had gotten so used to Mr. Foster’s beard, that seeing him now clean shaven was almost a physical jolt. It took a good decade off his appearance. He gestured at his chin. 

“Oh yeah,” he grinned, the smile just as bright as ever. “The beard thing was kind of a whim when I arrived, and then I was committed, besides, I thought I’d fit in better with you kiddos if I looked a little less like a dad-ly menace.” 

“Oh great, who am I going to look better groomed than now?” Remus complained, handing the bag he was carrying to Roman. 

“Well as a thought, you could be better groomed.” Logan retorted. 

“You’ve got a terrible case of baby face.” Remus added. 

Andy just took a picture. “No one is going to believe this.” he said.

“That’s the same thing Remy said.” Patton shook his head, and offered a paper bag. “I brought snacks!” He handed it to Andy. “This one’s for you, buddy, because I still feel terrible about taking advantage of you the other day.” 

“Mr. Foster, you may have used me like a muppet, but I am still incapable of holding a grudge against you, and or chocolate croissants.” 

“Ew.” Virgil made a face, and put his first aid kit in on top of the other bags in the trunk. “Andy, can you like… not ever describe being used. In any way. Ever again.” 

Andy made a noncommittal noise, muffled by the croissant in his mouth. 

“Oh, also this.” Patton pulled a hardbound journal out of his bag, and offered it to Andy. “This one is for you- if you want to talk to your brother, just write in this.” He pulled out a nearly identical book, this one bound in purple canvas instead of charcoal gray, and handed it to Virgil. “And give or take a little bit of time, it will show up in this one.” 

Virgil opened the book, staring at the blank pages. As he watched, letters faded into existence at a half tone, distinctly in Andy’s handwriting. 

‘Your fly is undone.’ He looked up and glared at Andy, who had a pen in hand and was staring at Virgil intently. He reached into his car, took a ballpoint pen off the sunshade, and scribbled ‘A muppet is worked with a hand up the ass- that’s your entire personality.’ 

Andy burst out laughing. 

“Magic book!” he said holding it up. “That is just…” he shook his head. “Thanks Mr. Foster. I’m sure I’ll miss him eventually.” 

“In the mean time, ‘vacation’.” Virgil snorted, and tucked the book into his bag. “Now before anyone calls shotgun or any bullshit, driver picks the music.” 

There was a pause.

“Shotgun?” Patton said anyway, raising a hand. 

Logan found himself seated between the twins in the back seat, and was attempting to practice mind over gay. It could have been going better. He’d been aesthetically attracted to Roman as just ‘that cute barista with the pretty voice’, Logan certainly wouldn’t have called it a crush or any terminology along those lines but it could have developed into one given a greater range of interactions or contact. If they’d met outside the Café, a library, a club, the supermarket or something along those lines, it would have been easier. He didn’t know how he’d missed Roman’s blushes and attempts at weak conversation, as that was clearly pre-flirting behavior- at least according to his notes, so if they’d met outside of a customer-service environment, he might not have realised he had a chance. 

How he felt about Remus was even more conflicting, having lingered on second base with him a great deal more than he should have. ‘Should have’ was a terrifying qualification, given that Remus certainly had no qualms. ‘Should have’ also applied to how much he  _ liked _ Remus. Remus was crude, obnoxious, and purposefully gave the impression of being undereducated. It had, on a certain level, been Remus’s fault he’d gotten involved in this entire mess, and the fact that he genuinely liked him certainly was why he’d volunteered to head back into similar adventures.

Logan much preferred his adventures to be an extra chili icon next to his pho order. 

It was very hard, sitting between them, to not wonder what the differences would be in how they approached making out. Roman was certainly not leaning away from the contact that had them pressed together from shoulder to knee, but he was keeping his hands in his own lap or knees in a very focused fashion. Remus by contrast was flopped easily against Logan’s side, distinguished from any other time they’d shared seating by not having his arm around Logan. Remus had tried to coax Logan to put his arm around him, however. From observing Roman’s interactions with Virgil and to a lesser extent, Andy and even Remus, Logan could guess that Roman was physically affectionate in a similar way to his brother, so it was probably a lack of familiarity with Logan’s own boundaries (and his possible crush) that was holding him back. In fact, he could remember a certain familiarity with the other barista, whose name also started with R, (really, the fact Logan remembered Roman’s name when he didn’t remember the other barista really should have been a hint to himself that he’d had the beginnings of a crush on the redhead.) and the owner. 

Tilting his head slightly, he studied Roman’s face as he leaned forward to grab the back of the driver’s seat and complain about the music Virgil was playing. His skin might have been a shade lighter than his brothers, and his eyes, however strikingly, absurdly green- Logan had wondered if they were colored contacts on more than one occasion- didn’t spark the feeling of unreality that Remus’s red ones did. But they both had beautiful eyes, framed in enviable lashes, and his impassioned- if irrelevant- arguments were delivered in a delightfully round tone. Logan tilted his head the other way, to discover that while he’d been watching Roman, Remus had been watching him. The duke raised an eyebrow and smirked, and Logan pressed himself back into the seat, flushing. 

“Look, I just don’t particularly want to drown in melancholy.” Roman finished. 

“If you’d actually listen to the lyrics, like you have to with your stupid showtunes, you’d find they aren’t all quote ‘mopey-dopy-melodies’.” 

“It’s the lyrics I’m objecting to!” Roman protested. 

“I’m sorry that you find ‘House of Gold’ less compelling than ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair’, but I’m not changing the playlist.”

“How dare you drag South Pacific into this!” 

“Look, it may have been progressive for the time, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a little cringe-worthy in places.” 

Logan adjusted the collar of his shirt. 

“While I do admire the patter song which is a frequent component of musical theatre-” he broke in, making Roman turn and smile at him which was frankly unfair- “I have to admit that I also enjoy the ‘rap rock’ movement.” 

“Betrayed!” Roman wailed theatrically, startling Logan into a jump, but Virgil only snorted and shook his head. 

“There is a large range.” Logan defended himself. “The way they use words and rhythm are really quite similar. To be fair, many artists are as ‘problematic’ as early musicals. Given it’s popularity I should think more patter-style songs would be included in modern musicals.” 

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Roman demanded. “Have you  _ heard _ Hamilton, that is much more rhythmic word than most musicals.”

“I believe so? That is the one by Lin-Manuel Miranda? I …” he paused and then went ahead. “I heard you discussing it with your friend, and singing one of the songs. I have to admit given how the internet was raving over it, I was concerned that it would be more of a jukebox musical, but most of the music was incredibly well written.” 

“Really?! Which was your favorite? Do you sing? Or rap, I suppose.” Roman’s intensity was so strong, Logan found himself leaning back against Remus, but instead of giving in, he answered Roman’s questions. 

“Oh no.” groaned Virgil, and turned his music up. 

An hour and a half later, they all unfolded from the car. Roman had insisted that they stop for lunch before they got any closer to Ahlgreen, citing the lack of services in the area. 

“I mean, they may have gotten bigger since I lived there; it’s been a while? But it’s still in the back end of nowhere.” He got his phone out. “Nah, looks like the only real food place in town is still the Ahlgreen House of Pizza. Huh. I’m surprised that it has a website. Oooh gator nuggets.” 

“Really?” Remus leaned over Roman’s shoulder. “They don’t have gators in Sanders, or at least not the same kind.”

“You’d think they’d emigrate.”

“Well, Sanders is less swampy.”

“You know what, fair.” 

“Are the two of you suggesting that you’ve… eaten alligator?” Logan asked. 

“It’s only fair.” Roman said. 

“They’d eat us first.” Remus added in the same tone, as if this was a common occurrence. “This is that place with those funny lights, and the checkered tile and the old pacman arcade table, right?”

“Yeah!” Roman agreed, and Remus started to tell a story about something they’d done there when they were young. Roman nodded along as though it sounded familiar. 

“It’s eerie isn’t it?” Virgil said, next to Logan. Logan glanced over and shrugged. “I never really believed in the whole ‘twin telepathy’ shit- I mean, I’ve met some twins before but-” He sighed, breath pushing up his bangs a bit. “They haven’t seen each other since they were nine, and they’ve been together like two days. I’m gonna admit they don’t always agree, but they are weirdly in sync.” he smirked. “I made them share a bed last night, instead of Roman crashing with me, and they argued for an hour and broke another lamp and then fell asleep on top of each other watching the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.” Virgil snorted and shook his head. “Looked like puppies.” 

“That sounds adorable!” Patton commented. “I don’t suppose you got a picture?”

“... you do know that’s creepy, right?” Virgil asked. “You are a grown ass man. Asking for pictures of two other grown ass men sleeping.” 

“I had not considered that context.” Patton flushed brilliantly. “I just… I always treated Roman as my kid or kid brother, and…”

“Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you don’t appear to be that much older than I am?” Logan asked. “I’m twenty nine for reference.”

“Really?” Virgil gave a shrug. “I would have guessed you younger too, but like, more like our age. So not much?” All three of them winced as Roman attempted to piggyback on Remus and overbalanced both of them, sending them tumbling into the landscaping island, crushing a shrub and scattering mulch. 

“We should have sent them to the dog park.” Logan muttered under his breath, and was rewarded by a quiet chuckle from Virgil.

“Do not approach the dog park.” Virgil offered.

“People are not allowed in the dog park.” Logan responded. 

“Dogs are not allowed in the dog park.” Virgil agreed. The exchange gave them something to talk about, and fortunately Patton caught on that they were talking about some sort of show before he could ask what the dog park was for, if not to pet dogs.

Patton looked a little troubled as they continued on to the restaurant, and stayed quiet while they ate. It wasn’t until they were heading back to the car that Roman noticed how quiet he was being. 

“Is there something wrong, Mr- uh. Patton. Yeah, that’s going to take a while to stop being weird.” 

“It’s not important, I don’t think.” He said crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m just… suddenly a little unsure how old I am?”

“Surely, that’s not exactly a mutable number?” Logan asked. 

“Well, that’s just the thing, Sanders is on a pretty similar timeline to Florida-the months are set up a little differently- but Remus said that Lupe went missing not long after I did, right?” 

“Yeah. And I started looking for a way into this world a couple months after that, and hadn’t been at it for a year when I got caught in the tangle trap.” 

“So at most I would have been gone from Sanders for two years? I opened the CAT Cafe six years ago.”

“That’s right, I’ve been working there since college.” Roman agreed. “No, wait-” He looked a little confused. Remus frowned. 

“I’d been in Florida almost a year when I did.” he added. “I mean, I know in this group, I’m the magical expert but It’s a little… disturbing.”

“It doesn’t add up, no.” Remus agreed. “And It’s not like anyone had been able to make it here from Sanders since stepdaddy fucked up the Cuts.”

“Could this be like what you said about the fairy hills and cuts, Remus?” Logan asked, leaning against the car, and tugging at the collar of his shirt. Frankly, he wished they’d had this conversation over dinner, as the blacktop made the parking lot sweltering. “How they could potentially mess with the flow of time?” 

“It was an artificial Cut. I mean, the fairies weren’t involved, but most artificial Cuts and adjacent world viewers are based on fairy magic.” Patton said thoughtfully. “And I didn’t even really cast it, I was just supplying energy and targeting.”

“So who was helping you?”

“Oh a couple people.” he chewed on his thumb thoughtfully. 

“Can we get in the car?” Virgil asked. “It’s just that we still have a couple hours to go, and I’d like to get there before dark.” 

“I’ll take the next leg-” Roman offered. 

“Then I’m shotgun.” Virgil countered. 

“Driver still picks the music~” Roman singsonged. Virgil made a disgusted noise but climbed in. 

“Sure you don’t want to sit in my lap?” Remus offered. 

“Pretty sure yeah.” 

Remus sat in the middle this time, sticking his legs out into the space between the front seats. 

“So, the person who was opening the Cut with you?” He asked Patton. Patton was doing his best to reduce his presence in the back seat, and give Remus enough space. 

“Ah, yes, it was a group project, Tidea was there, and Dorian, and Aleix. Aleix did a lot of study of fairy magic. She was the one who thought we might be able to open an artificial Cut, even though the natural ones were blocked off.” 

“Wasn’t Dorian the name Dad mentioned?” Roman asked, glancing into the rearview mirror as they got back on the road. “The one who gave him the box?” Remus gave a brief recap of what Arthur had told them about how the cut had been blocked off for Patton’s benefit, only throwing a few insults in. 

“If that’s true I sure picked the wrong group to work with.” Patton frowned. “So, I guess I got tossed years into the past when I was shoved through? Gosh! I sure am lucky I didn’t end up all the way back when the natural cuts closed. I’d be a grandpa by now!”

“You have kids?” Logan asked, curiously. “Here or in Sanders?” 

“Well, a spiritual grandpa!” he grinned. “I hadn’t even gotten a chance to mentor people yet. But I guess counting the years I’ve lived, that’d make me about forty years old.” He nodded. “That’s okay then. Not too old right? I can still be cool?” 

“Yeah, Mr. Foster. You’re as cool as you ever were.” 

“Thanks Virgil!” 

“I can’t believe you brought the Tangle-trap with you, and I can’t believe you’re  _ reading it outloud. _ ” Logan’s face was hidden in his hands. 

“I still say you should do voices.” Remus countered. 

“I wanted to hear the story, and I couldn’t keep reading while I was driving. I hadn’t gotten my turn with it yet.” Roman retorted. 

“I want you to know that the thought processes ascribed to the characters in no way reflected what  _ actually happened _ .” Logan said desperately. 

“Aw, you haven’t fallen madly in love with me?” Remus leaned into him, squishing Logan against the door. 

“Mad is a definite descriptor.” 

“If you’re concerned, once a narrative tangle trap is disarmed it is basically just a book.” Patton reached across Remus and patted Logan’s knee soothingly. 

“Yes, that is exactly what is bothering me, well spotted Patton.” 

“If you spend too much time in a sar-chasm, you can end up in a rut, kiddo. Maybe watch that.” 

“Puns are the lowest form of humor, and that wasn’t even a good one.” 

“They can be both the lowest and the highest at the same time.” Patton said, shrugging. “They’re pun of a kind that way.”

“How much further?” Logan asked, leaning forward against his seat belt to stick his face past the headrest. 

“Oh looks like about five chapters.” Virgil offered, grinning, holding the book up. 

“Why did I agree to this.” Logan moaned, and pressed his forehead to the back of the seat in front of him. “Are we even still in Florida?” 

“I  _ did  _ say Ahlgreen is back beyond nowhere.” Roman clarified. “I mean, there wasn’t a school or a grocery store in town when we lived there.”

“There wasn’t a school?” Logan sounded appalled.

“Mom taught us.” Roman said. “I was  _ ahead  _ when we moved to a bigger town.” he chuckled weakly. “Which was good. Because of all the therapy.” 

“Anyhow, if it makes you feel better Logan, I don’t think this is really about you; it’s about someone who has the same first name and appearance that you have, I mean, it never mentions glasses, right? It’s like… fanfiction. You’ve got to have read fanfiction.”

“No.” Logan said, in a tone that was completely unbelievable. 

“It’s more like an actor.” Patton offered “Narrative tangle-traps are a little different than just holds. People can use them for many reasons. This one is unusual in that it required two people to make it run. Usually it’s just one. Some places use them as a prison sentence; to try and rehabilitate prisoners, since certain conditions have to be met to end it. And then, at the end, you get a cautionary tale that entertains.” 

“People put people into books specifically to make stories?” Logan asked. 

“Usually there’s a secondary reason, but yeah.” 

“It’s a world with magic, not a utopia, Logan.” Remus pointed out. “You know, as is obvious given the crooked council and  _ literal  _ dragon who is currently on the throne.” 

“You said we could have died. They are using something that could  _ kill  _ people as a form of imprisonment.”

“Logan I just gotta-” Virgil started, looking a little uncomfortable. “Are you  _ aware  _ of the corrupt nature of the prison system in America-” 

“... no no, you’re right, I just realised what I said.” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Go ahead, regale us with the story of Logan Teach and Remus Ulf.” 

It was midafternoon when they arrived at a ranch house with an overgrown yard and a bright copper roof, and an attached garage. There was a faint swampy smell to the air, and it was silhouetted against a line of trees and scrub. They had bounced along a long driveway for several minutes after turning off a dirt road that was bordered by ditches full of swampy water before arriving. 

“I would have thought…” Roman rubbed the back of his neck. “I would have thought it would have changed more.”

“I hear you.” Remus agreed. 

“Are we gonna go inside, or head straight to where the Cut is?” Virgil asked, taking his hoodie off and tying it around his waist. If he was going to be outside, he did not need the extra layer. It was if anything more humid here than it had been at their apartment. Patton was looking at the house and already moving around to one side, picking his way through the tangled weeds and plants. The entrance to the garage was half-eaten by a blanket of kudzu. Virgil looked at it in distaste, not wanting to trust his ankles in that mess. It could conceal any number of things, for starters. 

“There really isn’t much reason for us to go inside, except nostalgia.” Roman shook his head. “We need to find where the Cut was, and see if Patton can open it.” 

“I think I remember where it was.” Patton offered, stopping before he disappeared into the underbrush. “I mean, I only came here once or twice, but I might be able to do a seeking on it? Even blocked, it’ll be a pretty intense node of magic energy.” He turned towards the trees again, raising his left arm and trailing his fingers along one of the tattooed vines before reaching its end, and making a two fingered flicking motion, as if tossing something out. 

“Is it safe to go into that alone?” Logan asked, concerned. Patton gave a little laugh.

“Well, a weedwacker’d do wonders, but if you’re worried about animals, I just pass unnoticed.” 

“If I wasn’t worried about them before, I am now.” Virgil grumbled. 

“They’re right though.” Remus pointed out. “If I was going to set a secondary trap it’d be around here.” 

“Remus, I understand, but how would they set it?” Patton asked, his hand still extended. “And who for?” 

“Roman.” Remus retorted. “What if he hadn’t been brainwashed, and made up his mind to try and find the Cut back to Sanders?”

“I object to the term brainwashed-” Roman said weakly. “But I guess you’re not really wrong.” 

“So no one should go anywhere alone.” Virgil said firmly. He opened the trunk of the car and pulled out the cutlass.

“Aw, Polly no!” Roman whined. “I know where you’re going with that, and I hate it already.” He pried it out of Virgil’s hands. 

“Oh like you’ve never day dreamed about hacking your way through a jungle with a sword.” Virgil retorted. “Don’t hit anything metal, and I can probably put the edge back on.” 

“Did… did you just volunteer me to go with Patton?” He hooked the sheathe to his belt. 

“I’ll go too.” Remus offered. 

“How hard do you think it’s going to be to open the Cut, Patton?”

“Honestly, Logan, I’m not gonna have a clue until I see it. It could be like a board nailed over a hole thing, or a drain clogged with hardened soap and hair- Or it could be more like a tightened knot, that needs easing open before we can get through.”

“More or less likely you won’t be able to open it before night falls?” 

Patton squinted at the sky. 

“I wouldn’t guarantee I could. If we’re lucky, it’ll be an easy fix from this side, but it might take days. It’s been blocked off for a long time.” 

“Then a home base is probably wise.” 

“Logan and I will check out the house.” Virgil offered, and Roman passed him his keys. 

“I don’t know how much trust I’d put in your GPS around here.” Roman offered. 

“We won’t go anywhere without telling you.” Virgil promised. 

“He’s right, the service here is appalling.” Logan mumbled at his phone. 

“Onward to adventure!” Roman cried, drawing the blade, and marching through the overgrown yard to Patton. Virgil shook his head, snorting, as Remus followed after and the three of them headed into the underbrush. 

“He changed his tune quickly.” Logan commented as Virgil stepped up to the front door, scattering a bunch of small lizards that were lingering on the stoop. 

“All things considered, Ro’s living his best life.” Virgil shook his head, flipping through the keys. “I understand that it was pretty terrible, being pulled into this whole… fantasy novel bullshit, but I can pretty much guarantee that Ro is secretly thrilled. He’s been fantasizing about this kind of thing for as long as I’ve known him- well that and making it on Broadway.”

“Not Hollywood?” Logan asked. “If one was going to dream big, I would assume that would be the target.” 

“Hollywood doesn’t do enough musicals.” Virgil peered at a couple keys, then tried one. “So actually being a secret prince from a magical world? He’s probably a little shaken, but the rest of him is like ‘VINDICATION!’” He rubbed his thumb thoughtfully against another key, then put it in the lock. This time it opened. “Oldest key, duh.”

“What about you?”

“Huh?” The door stuck a bit and Virgil gave it a nudge with his hip, making it swing into a dim interior hall. 

“How is all of this affecting you?” 

“I… honestly don’t know which F I’m gonna settle on.” Compared to the bright afternoon light outside, the inside of the house was dim. 

“Fight, flight, freeze, fawn, or fornicate?” 

“Nice, most people forget the last two. More ‘fuck it’ than fuck in particular.” It was cooler inside, and Virgil could tell the walls of the house were very thick. The front door opened into an entryway, one doorway plainly leading into the garage, another probably a storage or utility closet. The end of the entryway opened up, and they could see light sifting through drawn blinds. From the dimness they could guess that all the blinds were likewise closed. It didn’t smell great, but it was mostly just the stale smell of a closed room, with the faintest hint of stale sweat. 

“I wondered if you and Roman were … romantically involved in some way?”

“No, God no, no-” Virgil shook his head and flicked a switch next to the door automatically. Surprisingly the light came on in the hallway. “We’ve known each other too long, it’d be weird now-” he continued. “Besides, Ro has been fawning over your existence for months.”

“Months, that’s ridiculous-” Logan scoffed. “Surely he would have said something, it’s not as if he comes across as shy- we saw each other every weekday during that time period.” 

“Why would I say that if it wasn’t true?” He peered into the garage, seeing nothing but a pile of junk at the back next to an ancient washer. “Ro’s not shy, but he’s... Fragile. His heart’s too big for his goddamn sense.” The entryway let open into a large room, that probably took up half the house, a living room slash dining room, which was marked with an old abandoned couch, the kitchen was open plan looking over both of them, with a fireplace sort of dividing the spaces. There was debris in the bottom of the fireplace. On the other side of the room, there were sliding glass doors that seemed to lead to a patio. “So he’s not as forward as you’d expect when it comes to romance. Lots of daydreams though.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Logan crossed the room and peered down another hallway, with four doorways. A small spiral staircase of wrot iron curled up over the hallway door. Taking a step back Logan peered, and decided there was a loft there. 

“Because if you’re interested, I want you to know two things.” Virgil went into the kitchen and turned on the tap which coughed, bubbled and spewed water after a moment. “First, he’s into you, but you might need to make it clear if you return it, second I will ruin you if you hurt him. I’ve seen his heart broken too much to put up with it again.” 

“Well that does make it sound like a tempting proposition.” Logan said dryly. “And not at all like you’re harboring secret affections-” Virgil glared at him, and he raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “Please, I have approximately the social acumen of a toaster oven, but I  _ am  _ familiar with common storytelling tropes.” 

“What about you; what’s up with Remus then?”

“I can also recognise a deflection.”

“It’s not like I’m being subtle. And neither are you.” They looked at each other for a long moment, then nodded at each other. 

Roman didn’t get to play jungle adventurer as much as he’d thought, though he did get to hack down a few sheets of hanging vines, which was just as satisfying as he’d thought. The most annoying bits of underbrush were at knee and ankle level, and Patton was absolutely correct in that a weed wacker would have been more effective than the machete-purposed saber. The trees were bigger and things were far more overgrown, but Roman still had a bizarre sensation of coming home, despite the fact it had been over a decade since he’d been here. The house was well out of sight when Patton spoke up. 

“I hate to be the one to suggest this.” he said quietly, focused on following the flow of magic. In the dim light beneath the trees, Roman could see a faint glow pinched between Patton’s thumb and forefingers, that looked sort of like a glowing string that he was tracing his fingers over, despite the fact it appeared and disappeared perhaps an inch from his fingers. “But are you two sure you want to bring your ...friends with you?” 

“Patton, shut up.” Remus growled.

“I don’t think I will actually. It needs to be said.” He frowned. “And I’m sorry. But as nice as they are, I don’t think Logan and Virgil know what they’re getting into. I mean, the situation has even changed from what I last knew, if Lupe is missing as well, and if Marked Mages are being attacked in the streets. But this is important, this is dangerous. I mean, no offence Roman but even you aren’t really prepared for what’s going to happen when we get back to Sanders.”

Roman frowned, looking ahead of them. 

“There’s a canal and a pond up ahead, we should steer around it.” He shoved a broad, low spread palmate plant out of the way with the flat of his sword before responding. “You’re not wrong, Patton. I mean, I day dreamed about this kind of thing, but that doesn’t really qualify me for anything. I  _ did  _ take a bizarre amount of civics and history classes in college, but I  _ don’t  _ think that really is going to help.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you up to speed.” Remus promised, slapping Roman’s shoulder cheerfully. “There’s still a shit ton of organization in the resistance.” 

“Thanks. So yeah, I’m not prepared. But I do know this.” He sped up so he could turn around and face Patton when he said the next part, face very serious. “I won’t get far without Virgil’s support. He’s my best friend, and he’s…” he fumbled for a metaphor, then saw the blade in his hand. “He’s my whetstone. He keeps me sharp. He keeps me focused. He makes me better, no matter what I do, or what I try to do. So yes. I’m sure. I don’t know if I would have been able to ask if he didn’t offer, and I probably would have suffered for it, but he volunteered, and I’d have to be a lot stupider than I am to not accept.” 

Patton stopped when Roman had. He covered his mouth with one hand then both as Roman talked, then flung himself forward to hug the redhead around the neck. Roman hurriedly moved the saber out of the way. 

“That’s so sweet! I can’t take it!” Patton cried, giving Roman another squeeze. 

“Way to make me look bad bro.” Remus laughed. “I just don’t want to say no if he’s willing to still be around me. And  _ I _ have friends back in Sanders. Well. Acquaintances. Friends.” 

“You may be looking bad, but now I just feel bad.” Roman retorted. “Because I have friends. I mean heck, the theatre sent me a whole bunch of condolence texts when I said I had to drop out of this season completely for personal reasons. Well except Reagan, but he’s basically Ronnie Rotten with less redeeming qualities. Nice baritone though.” He patted Patton’s back gently. “But let’s keep moving, okay? Because there’s an alligator over there, and I don’t want them to get territorial.” 

“People like me.” Grumbled Remus as Patton cast about and got a hold of whatever it was he was following. “I’m a likeable person. I’m fun. I’m practically a mushroom, I'm so much fun.”

Patton laughed.

“Oh, because you’re a fungi!” 

“Well, no, I meant because I pop up when I’m not expected and you can’t kill me in any way that matters. But sure.” Remus was grinning though so he was probably joking. 

“Thanks for not bringing it up in front of them, though.” Roman said, keeping an eye on the gator as they moved further from the water. “Because that would have been  _ super  _ awkward.”

Roman thought they might have been able to identify where the Cut was even without Patton. There was a broad patch of ground where everything grew low to the ground, with a sort of gravely wash down the center of it, like flood had come through. A tree had half tipped over at some point and was being eaten by vines but that was the most vibrant thing. Something felt different; but familiar too. Roman kept looking around, feeling like something was missing. After his initial scanning of the not-quite-a-clearing Patton started rooting in the large fanny pack he was wearing. 

He crouched down and picked up a rock from the wash. He licked it, which made Roman wrinkle his nose, but whatever information Patton got out of it seemed to please him, because he nodded and rolled the stone between his palms. He continued what he was doing, moving around the area, turning over some moss on the ground; tearing down a clump of spanish moss and pulling it apart between his hands, frowning into the mass like someone reading a newspaper, taking a knife out of his bag and cutting a notch into a tree- individually small, inconsequential actions, odd, but only odd- but when stacked ontop of eachother it just seemed stranger and stranger. 

Roman couldn’t help but watch, occasionally glancing around, like something was prompting him to look for something, though he wasn’t sure what. Remus meanwhile, was on the other side of the clearing, where he’d found a large iguana lounging on a tree branch and was bothering it, making faces and clucking noises at it, and poking it with a stick. The iguana did not seem impressed, or inclined to move, and Remus didn’t seem inclined to bother it to the point where it would. It took Roman almost a quarter of an hour to realise that as focused as Remus seemed to be on the invasive lizard, he too was frequently looking around as Patton went about his business investigating. 

Patton was sitting in the wash, the bits of debris he’d gathered spread around him in a semicircle, digging in the dirt with a stick like a child at the beach, when Roman’s phone let out a single echoey note. Remus looked over, but Patton didn’t look up, as Roman checked the text. 

“Verge would like to remind us that none of us brought a flashlight, and we should probably get back to the house before dark.” Roman looked up at the sky which was definitely starting to color. “How are you doing over there, Mr. Patton?” 

“I could teach you how to summon a light if you want, Ro?” 

“Do not teach him magic, Remus.” Patton raised his head. “Not here, not now; there are some major tangles going on with the Cut’s closure.” 

“You’re not the boss of me.” Remus teased, reaching out to touch the iguana which took a swipe at him with a claw, and he pulled back in time to avoid. Leaping to the ground, it waddled into the underbrush. “And neither is Ro’s significant odder.”

“He does have a point.” Roman frowned. 

“Okie doki-” Patton gathered everything into a bag and stood up. “Good news; I’m pretty sure I can do this. Bad news, I need a couple things I don’t have, so I can’t do it tonight. Which is too bad because a transient time like dusk would be a really good time for it. If I can get the materials, I could open it up at dawn tomorrow, and we’d be able to move through safely as soon as that afternoon.” 

“Not right away?” Remus asked. 

“Have you ever seen a levee break in a spring flood?” Patton asked. “Or even just a really bad patch of rapids, I guess? Where the river is full of debris and it’s all flowing over itself so fast you can’t see through the water? It’s gonna be like that, only with magic. If we tried to go through the Cut right after it was opened, there’s no telling where we’d end up; maybe we’d end up in Sanders, or fairyland, or some other adjacent world, or a world that was several places down the chain of adjacent worlds. Or hundreds of years into the past or the future, either in Sanders or Florida. Not to mention the danger to the body, mind and soul of whoever went through.” Behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes were practically luminous, and his face was serious, not an expression it was suited to. The fact they were luminous when his face was in shadow was very effective in Roman’s opinion. 

“I’m just going to say that does not sound like a great deal of fun.” 

Remus was staring into the distance in the direction the iguana had disappeared. 

“No. No you’re right. It was…” he exhaled slowly. “I forgot.”

“Forgot?” Roman asked. 

“The last time. When we left. And you didn’t make it through. The Cut it was… painful.” 

“Remus was sick after they got back. Lupe pulled him through just as it closed.” Patton said quietly. “While we tried to figure out what had been done, and we found every mage with experience with Cuts- I thought Lupe was going to try and chew through the walls of reality to get back to you, Roman- and Remus was sick for a long time. He shouldn’t be able to do magic without a Mark, not the way that he does.”

Remus put a hand up, dragging the loose straggles of hair away from his face, lingering on the gray stripe, then closing his eyes, a hand resting over one. 

“Woulda been suck a fucking pity.” he said, voice rough. “If I’d gone blind before I ever got a chance to go five rounds with Rosy Palm.” 

“Is that why your eyes are- well…” Roman had crossed the clearing, but wasn’t quite sure if he should offer to touch his brother. “I don’t remember everything. It’s clearer here, but I repressed a lot of stuff. But we used to be identical, didn’t we?”

“Once I got better, my eyes were like this. It’s not unheard of, but it’s considered a natural Mark.” He sighed, and dropped his hand, eyes opened to look at Roman. “Public opinion may well have changed, with the usurper on the throne; not many people know the secret about him being a dragon, but he has been seen using magic. But just as Mom couldn’t sit regent on the throne because she was a Marked Mage, I will never be eligible to rule Sanders, because the Cut changed me.” For a long moment, he just looked into Roman’s eyes. Then he shrugged a bit. “I mean, sounds dull as shit anyway. You’re welcome to it. No skin off my dick. I think a Duke sounds cooler than a king or prince.” He played with the word, not making eye contact, pronouncing it different ways, and Roman finally let his hand just come to rest on Remus’s shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” Roman asked. His twin shrugged. 

“Yeah. Let’s go with yeah. I mean shit.” He faced him and put his hand on Roman’s wrist, squeezing. “I found you! You’re alive. You’re okay! Maybe a bit of a himbo, but we can work with that shit.” 

Roman gave a laugh and squeezed his hand where it was still on Remus’s shoulder. 

“Where the heck did you get that?”

“You’re not denying it~” Remus teased. 

The house was lit up- not fully but the blinds were open, and the patio was illuminated by the light from the sliding door. It wasn’t quite dark yet- the light had changed color from gold to orange, and the wind blew in from the west, carrying a hint of saltwater tang- but dusk could linger for a while that time of year. 

The blinds were open but the door wasn’t unlocked. Roman rapped against the door frame rather than going around to the front door- which knowing Virgil would also be relocked. Beside him, Remus pressed his theatrical pout against the glass. There was a bark of laughter from the other side, then Virgil slid the door open. 

“Welcome back, dumbass.” 

“No kiss?” Remus made a kissy face in Virgil’s direction, who sneered and leaned away. 

“You’re all sweaty messes, also fuck no.” 

“Both the water and electricity work.” Logan reported from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. “I was on the fence about plugging in the refrigerator, given that we had nothing really to put in it, and I doubt we’ll be staying here long; but Virgil talked me around; the last of the leftovers from lunch and the ‘road trip food’ is there. However the water heater is up and working, and the shower in the master bedroom has a glass door- honestly the shower curtain in the other bathroom isn’t of the best quality.” He sighed, and continued the assessment. “There’s no air conditioning unit sadly. We found a window unit, but the filter looked bad, so rather than risk a lung disease-”

Virgil snorted in amusement but nodded along.

“We decided not to install it. There’s a couch of dubious cleanliness here, and a futon couch in the loft, but there isn’t much in the way of furniture here, and no real housewares. We did bring in the bags from the car.”

“If you’d stayed gone much longer, we probably would have come looking.” Virgil admitted. “I was starting to get worried.”

“I forgot to text back!” Roman slapped a hand to his forehead. “I left you hanging, my dearest dower darling.” 

“Three Ds. that’s a stretch.” Remus muttered, with a smirk. 

“Left me on read, Ro, I mean,  _ really _ .” Virgil teased. “No idea where you were, no idea when you were coming back-” Roman fawned at him, continuing the theatrical apology. The more Virgil scoffed and rolled his eyes, the worse Roman got. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Logan asked, ignoring them for now. 

“Yes actually!” Patton said brightly. “I need supplies though, to actually break through it. Did you find anything like a music box, or a toy instrument?”

“I’m afraid not. Virgil seems to have brought a musical instrument.” 

“Probably not a great idea, chances are the resonance is going to break it.” Patton shook his head, and took out his phone, poking at it. “Okay, there seems to be a Wal Mart about… forty minutes away.” He made a face. “I hate to say it, but I could find most of what I’m looking for there.” 

“That’s terrifying.” Logan said. 

“I hate shopping there, but it sure is… available.” Patton sighed, rubbing at his temple with the palm of his hand. 

“How long do you think we’re going to be here?” Logan asked. 

“If everything goes wrong, no more than three days. If I can’t break it open in that amount of time, I won’t be able to. If things go right, just overnight.” Patton grinned a bit “I’m great at breaking things, just ask Roman.” 

“That’s not fair Mr- I mean Patton.” Roman protested. “You’re not that clumsy.”

“Oh? So you’ll loan my your car?”

“Roman and I will go get the supplies.” Virgil corrected, having witnessed some of Patton’s accidents over the years, and been regaled with other ones that Roman had witnessed. Roman wasn’t wrong, Patton wasn’t that clumsy, but he was excitable and enthusiastic, which could lead to some collisions. 

“Oh that’s great! Thank you!” Patton smiled at Virgil brightly. “I can keep picking the problem apart then. Roman, I’ll text you the list, okay?” 

They drove along dark rural roads in silence. Virgil hadn’t bothered grabbing the aux cord and Roman was deep in thought. They hit the highway and zipped along for bit, silence starting to stretch, but not uncomfortably. As they pulled off to a still fairly sparse strip, he finally spoke up. 

“Roman?” 

“Yeah?”

“You’re sure about this? I mean, I didn’t leave anything important there. We can go home.” 

“No. We can’t.” Roman said firmly. “Well. I can’t.” 

“Yeah. I was afraid of that. But I had to offer.”

“It’s cool. I understand.” 

“I gotta say though, if we ever tell this story? I’m leaving out the fucking trip to Wally World.” 

“We take it to our grave.” Roman agreed.

“I can’t believe you actually stopped for ‘gator gobbets’” Logan said, wrinkling his nose. 

“We got pizza too!” Roman protested. “It’s local cuisine, Logan. Live a little.”

“Living is exactly what I am concerned about.” 

The proprietor of the Ahlgreen House of Pizza had actually recognised Roman which surprised Virgil a great deal. The woman with a cap of steel grey hair that looked like a helmet it was so gelled into place had laughingly asked him why he was back in town. Roman had jokingly said that he’d had a craving that only she could satisfy, despite admitting right after that he’d forgotten her name. Virgil sat back, totally confused and kind of awed at the way Roman could talk to people he didn’t even know and make them feel heard. When he mentioned that he had a friend who’d never tried gator, she insisted on making him a fresh batch. 

Virgil did have to admit the paper bags had developed an alarming transparency from the grease on the fries and the ‘gobbets’. Patton had immediately agreed to eat a couple before taking a couple slices of pizza and retreating to an empty bit of floor in the dining room, sitting cross legged in his semi-circle of debris, fishing in his fanny pack and the walmart bags they’d brought him from time to time. Virgil had to admit a hefty curiosity, but frankly, watching the twins trying to tease Logan into eating gator meat was more entertaining. He sipped his gatorade. 

“If it will shut you up, I’ll eat some.” Logan finally said. The twins let up a cheer. 

“At least two!”

“Yeah, at least. So you can try it with and without ketchup.” 

“I wish you two would find some other form of bonding activity.” he grumbled taking two nuggets from the package and balancing them on his napkin, ignoring the fries.

“Sorry, Logan. I’m throwing you under the bus on this one.” Virgil retorted, leaning back on the counter where he was perched. “All the other bonding they did broke things.”

Logan wrinkled his nose. 

“I am being hazed.” He didn’t mind too much, it felt friendly; Logan had to admit he didn’t have too many friends. When he’d contact Lyra about keeping an eye on his apartment, he’d been surprised to find out she thought they were friends, rather than closer-than-normal work acquaintances. She’d asked if she could use his apartment as a place to stay while she found a new lease, since her current term was up and her landlord was an asshole, so subletting would work out well for both of them, something Logan hadn’t anticipated. She’d promised to take good care of his plants. When he’d told her he didn’t have any, she changed that to promising to get him at least a spider fern. Logan supposed that she was a friend, for a certain value. So this was certainly friendship as well.

“Noooo-” Remus protested. “Hazing involves more nudity and caning.” he picked up a nugget and wiggled it in front of Logan’s face as if trying to get him to rise to the bait. “C’mon, take a bite.”

“I am not eating food you’ve put your hands on.” Logan protested. 

“It never bothered you before-” he teased. 

“You weren’t feeding me in front of other people before.” 

“So?”

“Remus-” he started but this time when he opened his mouth, Remus took advantage and rather ungracefully stuffed the breaded monstrosity into his mouth. Rather than spit it out and make a bigger mess, he chewed and swallowed, fighting the urge to sigh explosively. 

It wasn’t bad, actually. Certainly not more greasy than say, a  _ chicken  _ nugget which he indulged in occasionally, but the flavor was different. As he chewed and swallowed, Remus went to grab another and doubtless repeat the process and Logan swatted his hands away, making him laugh. Both twins were watching him with expectant expressions. From what he’d gathered, this was one of their favorite childhood foods. He tried not to retroactively worry about their health. Logan had discovered that being subjected to two slightly different dazzling smiles at the same time was nearly concussive, which had more to do with his capitulation than anything else. He ate another one, this time dabbing it in one corner of the distressing scarlet lake created by squeezing out an alarming number of ketchup packets- he suspected that Remus had just been having fun- he repeated the slow thoughtful chewing. Frankly he preferred it without the ketchup. 

“Fine.” he said at last. “It is nice enough. It has a stronger flavor than chicken and the texture is different. But I’m not eating any more.” 

“More for me!” Remus laughed, and threw one into the air, catching it in his mouth. 

Virgil had finally given in to his curiosity, slowly approaching Patton to peer over his shoulder. It was still odd to see his face unobscured by a beard. Unable to find a mechanical music box, they’d opted for an inexpensive ukulele which kind of broke Virgil’s heart. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, and he’d rather musical instruments were given a bit of respect. 

Patton had removed the strings, coiling them up and setting them aside, and was doing something to the body. It involved a great deal of swooping lines in sharpie and paint pen. It wasn’t strictly attractive, most of them swooping either out from or into the the sound hole. But then there were small chips of stone that had been superglued to the outside. Every time he set it down, it was in a gap in a pattern made of… debris was the only word that came to Virgil’s mind. He leaned back as Patton stretched, reaching down the back of his collar as though scratching an itch. After a moment his hand withdrew and instead he pulled his shirt off completely.

“Whoa.” Virgil said without thinking. Patton cocked his head to look at Virgil and grinned. 

“Thanks!” He rolled his shoulders, and reached back again. This time Virgil could see that his finger tips were tracing over a decorative pot that was tattooed between his shoulder blades. 

Virgil knew that Mr. Foster had tattoos. The most visible of which were the paw print on his hand which was always visible, and a constellation of stars and lines behind one ear. The small bat that was tattooed on the inside of his ear was less noticeable but still visible. He’d even seen the silhouette of a running wolf on one arm. The majority of his tattoos- or maybe tattoo singular? It could go either way- was a series of flowering vines that trailed up his neck and down his arms, and now, Virgil could see, around his chest all of which could be traced back to the pot on his back. In fact, the vines incorporated the other tattoos into them, trailing to the end of a curl of a vine like the other symbols were blooming from them or fruit the vine had borne. Several of them converged on the sky blue heart on his chest. Well maybe not all of them- the vines seem mostly contained to his upper body and arms, and Virgil could make out a design peeking up from the waistband of Patton’s khaki cargo shorts. 

Watching Patton trace the path of a vine from its source in the pot was strangely sensual, Virgil realised suddenly, and he coughed, looking away. Patton gave a good natured laugh which brought his attention back in time to see him making a little winding gesture over a symbol on his rib cage, before bringing those same fingers back down to smooth over the back of the ukulele. 

“Not all mages have this much ink.” Patton told him conversationality. “It used to be that people thought the larger your mark, the more power you had, but I think that was mostly just a brag. After all, tattoos hurt when you get ‘em!” 

“And they take a long time.” Virgil murmured back. “Not to mention the ways they could go wrong, infection, mistrokes of the needle, scarring, blood poisoning, cross contamination, allergic reaction to the ink, just terrible fucking tattoos-”

“I’m guessing you don’t have any.” Patton seemed amused at Virgil’s litany of complications. 

“I thought about it when I was in college, but after learning about it I decided to go for less permanent body modifications. I don’t even have pierced ears.”

“Oh that’s much safer, as long as you don’t use a piercing gun. A properly sterilized needle at home is safer than a piercing gun.” 

Virgil looked Patton over a second time, noting that he didn’t seem to have any piercings, or even the scars of ones in his ears or nipples and whoa wait, that was looking a little bit too closely, he dragged his eyes up before he quite made contact with that obscured tattoo at his waistline; or the hairs around his navel. He wasn’t ripped or even sculpted like Roman, but Patton was clearly muscular in a thick-bodied way. 

“Well, Andy got his done in a parlor.  _ That  _ needle was something.”

“He wears those cute little hematite gages right?” 

“Most of the time.” He shrugged. “So what are you doing?”

“Well from what Remus and Roman said, the Cut was closed by a harmonics device. And that fits with what I saw. It’s been closed a while so it’s… choked, like a waterway that doesn’t have a current. But if I can remove the block, it’ll start flowing again.” He picked up the stringless instrument and tipped it looking back and forth. “This seems like a really little thing to do that job, but that’s what tools are for. It’s like a drain snake! Once it starts moving the ‘water’ will to the rest. I don’t know if it’s going to clear out the rest of the Cuts that connect Sanders to Florida, but this one should work again.” 

“I’ve been wondering, Sanders isn’t like… a global superpower, there are other kingdoms, right?” 

Patton gave a belly laugh. 

“Of course there are. It’s not even one-to-one landmass. But if we ended up in another kingdom, we’d have other problems.” He paused and lowered his voice. “I don’t know if you remember, but a couple Christmases ago, I went on that ski trip up north?” 

“Let’s pretend I do, I think Roman mentioned you were on a trip?” 

“I went looking for another Cut. And I found one, and there were people there, but they had only vaguely heard of Sanders. I had to use a translate spell to be understood at all, and they were really confused with how I did magic. Same world, way too far away to be practical. Maybe even further than the flight took.” 

Virgil nodded thoughtfully. 

“It was blocked during a storm, which probably is what made the resonance spread. I mean, that’s the most likely thing.” Squinting at the instrument, he nodded. “That. That should do it.” He started restringing it and Virgil winced. 

“Do you have to- can I?” 

“Huh?” Patton blinked. “Oh no; if you want to-” He passed the ukelele over to Virgil, followed by the strings. Virgil efficiently restrung and tuned the instrument. He frowned, and ran through the scales again. The notes weren’t wrong, but they were different somehow. He didn’t think that the glued on rock chips would change the sound. Patton put his hands out. “Wow, thanks! That would have taken me a lot longer.” 

“No problem.” Virgil said, and watched Patton put his shirt back on and clean up his work area, though mostly he was scooping debris into an empty Walmart bag. Standing up, he put his hands in the small of his back and stretched. 

“I’m going to need to get up uncomfortably early tomorrow. Would you guys mind if I stole the couch cushions and sacked out in the other room so the light doesn’t bother me?”

“The couch appears to be a pull out; so someone will be able to sleep on it either way.” Logan said “It’s fine with me.” 

“I’m kinda sad that I’m missing like, prime sleepover time with the rest of you,” the mage said as he gathered the cushions up. “But well, duty calls, I guess. I mean, I could try to unblock it at dusk, but we want to get a wiggle on.” He frowned, just a little brow furrowing, “I… It might be safer that way, so I’m going to think about it?” Carrying them into another room there was an explosive noise. Before anyone could move, Patton called back down the hall. 

“It’s dusty. It’s dusty in here. I sneezed. It was just a sneeze. Everything is fine. Go back to your pizza, sleep well and don’t let the bed bugs bite! Nighty night!” 

Virgil stared at the couch with a creeping feeling of horror.

“You know what Remus, I think I’m going to give you a pass if you wanted to do just one more little piece of magic…” Logan murmured. “I haven’t seen anything but… the furniture had to have been left for a  _ reason _ .” 

Remus started laughing, deep in his chest, but wiped his hands on the jeans he was wearing and wandered over to the couch. After fiddling with it for a second he unfolded the thin mattress and ran his hands over the striped fabric.

“It’s cool, Specs. No bugs to be found.” Standing up he strolled across the room and clambered up the outside of the spiral stair flipping over and heading into the loft. “This one’s- well, clean might not be the word, but no bugs. No wait- no that’s a lizard. Hey, you little cute little shit how’d you get in?” There was the sound of scraping and thumps from the loft, and Remus descended the stairs normally, hands cupped around something. “Who wants to meet my new friend!? He’s bitey!” 

Making a face, Virgil opened the back door and pointed outside firmly. Pouting, Remus let the little thing outside, where it seemed perfectly content to go. Logan mouthed ‘thank you’ behind Remus’s back. 

Virgil flashed a quick ok. 

Though Logan had not known Remus for as long as Virgil had known Roman, he could recognise a certain level of resigned ownership. Which explained why Logan had seemingly unthinkingly dropped his life to follow. 

Logan and Virgil had gotten in some good conversation themselves while the others had been gone, despite Virgil’s social awkwardness when he didn’t have a specific role to play- the grouchy standoffish emo armor, the sarcastic but amusing bard, the take-no-nonsense bartender- none of those fit this situation, leaving Virgil uncharacteristically exposed. Logan meanwhile appeared very straightforward, but was straightforward like a mathematically designed labyrinth. Maybe it was understandable, but the twists could still be surprising. Beyond that he was calm in the face of Virgil’s grouchy sarcasm, giving Virgil time to do more than just react, but to think about what he was saying and doing. It was something he’d been working on; but hard to remember to do when faced with people being well, people. He suspected Logan was equally unsure when faced with unfamiliar individuals, given what he said and a few stumbles. Despite his embarrassment at the tangle-trap’s story, he was willing to admit the parts that  _ were  _ true, so while he denied some of the thoughts the omniscient narrator ascribed him, some were still accurate, giving Virgil an unfair insight to his personality. 

For instance, he was soft for Remus, however against his better judgement, and Virgil could definitely understand that. At the same time, Virgil could see a touch of hesitance with his interactions with Roman. Not an enviable position, honestly, to be crushing on twin brothers. Virgil could, if he stretched, see the draw to a rugged, rude, Roman-without-limits. He could see the same ridiculous gusto directed at living that Roman had with a no filter self confidence that he was pretty sure was just as much bravado as Roman’s. A sharp grin rather than a sweet one and brilliant unnatural eyes that ticked Virgil’s vampire fetish would have been more attractive if he hadn’t firmly been of the opinion that Roman didn’t have enough limits in the  _ first  _ place. Plus he was used to Roman, which counted for a lot. 

Virgil wasn’t sure that Roman had noticed that Logan was giving him occasional appreciative glances as the conversation wound around subjects. At the moment Remus was trying to explain the purpose of the council that had put the usurper on the throne, and Roman was suggesting possible replacements that might appeal to and be possible with the government Sanders had in place. Apparently Roman’s theatrical vocabulary was claiming another admirer. 

“Hey, Tweedle Dumb And Tweedle Dumber-” Virgil said, getting their attention. The three of them had been leaning on the kitchen island, while he perched on the counter next to an outlet, his phone charging while he slowly scrolled through the internet. “Someone should take the first shower, and you two were the ones who were out in the jungle of the back yard for longer, so you’re the ones who really need one. No one is going to want to sleep next to that.” 

“Not a fan of nature’s musk, Vergie?” Remus asked, sniffing at the edge of his shirt. “Sweat’s perfectly natural you know.” 

“So’s skunk. And wow, would you look at that-” he gestured at Remus’s hair. 

“Well skunks and racoons should be friends, so we should get along great.” Despite himself, Virgil snorted, especially at Roman’s expression as his friend gallantly attempted not to burst out laughing. 

“If you don’t want the first shower, I’ll take it.” Logan offered, checking his watch. 

“Wanna share?” Remus asked, with a none too subtle leer. 

Logan took a long beat, staring at him with a blank expression.

“No.” And he took his bag into the bathroom. 

“I can’t believe the last chance I get to bathe for god knows how long is going to be in a shower that hasn’t been refinished since the eighties.” Virgil complained, fighting the urge to do an internet search on what kind of bacteria lingered on tile. 

“It’s not like we don’t have bathhouses in Sanders, pouty purple.” Remus 

“Bathhouses? Is that like, a euphemism for a whorehouse, or what?” 

“Only sometimes.” 

Virgil choked on his gatorade. 

“The rest of the time it’s a place to get clean; I mean, I knew in theory, but it’s a weird kind of fancy that y’guys all seem to expect bathing rooms in every house. Some of them double as laundrys.” He looked at Virgil with the most ridiculously condescending expression. “Did you think we were constantly stewing in our own filth? Because as entertaining as that sounds, it’d get old real fast.” 

“Well, I was kind of picturing like… giant buckets in front of a fire at best?”

“If you’re in a town without a bathouse or on a farm, sure, but most towns at least have a communal wash house.”

“The entire town shares a bathroom?”

“Is this pooping bathroom, or washing bathroom?” Remus asked, just to be clear. 

“Washing.”

“Then yeah.” 

“Somehow more upsetting.” 

He probably shouldn’t have waved that cape in front of Remus because by the time Logan had emerged, Virgil had been given a verbal tour of the duke’s favorite bathhouses. He tried not to picture showering in highschool, and instead like… roman decadence or maybe the japanese system. Either way he did not like thinking about it. Or rather, he didn’t like thinking about himself in it. 

Logan emerged, gently squeezing the water from his hair, just as Remus said 

“So yeah, I  _ guess  _ you can rent a private room at a bathouse if you want, but I can pretty much guarantee that people are going to think you’re having sex in it.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Logan said from the hallway. “Are you telling me that when I insisted on a private room people thought we were fornicating in it?!”

From the look on his face, Remus spent a moment considering denying it but then he just shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. Imagine  _ my  _ disappointment; but it is what it is.” 

“I… I am honestly not sure how I feel about that.” 

“Neither am I.” Roman mumbled. “I’m gonna- I’ll leave my soap in there for you; I’ll just…” he headed into the bathroom. Virgil watched him go then flicked his eyes back to the other two. 

“So what’s the bro code like in Sanders? Is that a thing?” 

Remus looked a little confused. 

“Like cryptology? A sibling cypher? Twinspeak? Cuz I don’t remember much of our twinspeak, it’s been like twenty years-”

“Oh boy.” Logan said very quietly. 

“I… I honestly can't tell if you’re shitting me or not here.” Virgil dropped his hands to brace between his legs as he leaned forward. “Is there another word for it? Logan, help me out here, have you ever heard it called something else?” 

“You are attributing me with greater social awareness than I have, Virgil. I’m not even sure if I actually know how ‘bro code’ is supposed to work.” 

Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. 

“It’s bullshit and sexist, but some gays adapt it; what I was referring don’t date sisters or exes.” 

“What about the ex of your sister?” Remus asked curiously. 

Virgil turned his hand palm up and made the ‘I don’t know’ noise. 

“Ah.” Logan said “I see what you were intimating. Virgil, I don’t think-” 

Virgil held his hand up in Logan’s direction, indicating he should be quiet, looking at Remus instead. “Also, because I just pulled it up on my phone and holy shit, it is worse than I thought but I’m not backing down now; there’s a bit about not going after someone your bro is.” 

There was a pause, and Remus sniggered suddenly.

“And now I get it and we’re all caught up.” He started laughing harder. “You’re… this is where you’re going?” he just kept laughing, until Virgil began to get uncomfortable. 

“Answer the question!” 

“No. Not a thing.” He came around and got into Virgil’s personal space pawing at his phone. “I wanna see though- is there a bit about interfering? What does ‘bro’ mean? Are  _ we  _ bros?” 

Virgil shoved at Remus’s face with one hand holding his phone up over his head with the other as Remus grabbed at it. 

“What the fuck- let go- get off me you sweaty goblin!” Virgil protested. Logan just watched.

“Ordinarily I might assist you, but I feel disinclined in this instance. I  _ did  _ ask you to back off on the subject, and I thought you’d agreed. Not, to wit, ‘a bro move’,”

“Do you get it?” Remus asked, face smooshed to the side by Virgil’s hand. He stuck his tongue out and licked at the fingers closest to his mouth, making Virgil swear more. 

“Not particularly.” Logan admitted. “Honestly slang is such a constantly mutating and evolving mess that I’ve mostly abandoned trying to understand it. I had a note document on my phone where I wrote down definitions when I could get them, but I gave it up when I had to come to grips with the conflicting ways they were used.”

“You actually took notes?” Virgil said in a slightly awed voice. “... I mean this in a nice way, but holy shit, that is  _ incredibly  _ nerdy.” 

Logan sighed heavily. 

“I’ve heard. It wasn’t effective either.” 

“Are you  _ biting  _ me?!” Virgil demanded, shoving Remus away with his foot. 

“Not really?” He laughed. 

“ ‘A lil’ nom’?” Logan suggested. Virgil could  _ hear  _ the quotation marks. His head hurt. He covered his face with his hands, and wished that he could disappear, or rewrite the last ten minutes so the conversation hadn’t taken place. 

“Please stop.” he mumbled into his palms. 

“Anyway, Logan gets to pick who gets to suck face with him. Dibs only count when they’re voiced. If Roman has a crush he’s got to man up and say something.” 

“Now I’m conflicted, that’s what I’ve been saying, but you’re being a jerk.”

“ _ I’m _ being a jerk?” Remus made a tutting noise. “ _ I’m _ not the one who brought this up. In front of Logan.”

Virgil gave a groan so long and drawn out it sounded like faulty pipes. He slid off the counter and onto the kitchen floor fluidly. Somehow he kept sliding until he hit the kitchen island where Logan was leaning and his legs just flopped upward, making it look like he was sitting on the side of the island. At no point did he uncover his face, but the hood of his sweatshirt dragged up to pad the back of his head. Logan watched this entire process with vague interest. 

Finally, Virgil stopped groaning and peered out between his fingers. 

“‘Msorry” he mumbled. “This is all fucked up, but I’m sorry. You did ask me to drop it.” 

Logan looked down at him and sighed. 

“Emotions are chancy things, especially in chaotic situations. You’re concerned for your friend’s feelings.” 

“It isn’t something that can be planned out.” Virgil agreed, closing his eyes and letting his arms flop back over his head. “It’s terrifying.” 

“Why is Virgil on the floor?” Roman asked, coming into the room.

“Existential crisis.” Logan said smoothly. 

“Ah.” Crouching next to his friend, he grabbed the edge of his hood, pulled it up, then yanked the strings sharply. Virgil gave a muffled noise, and Roman patted his shoulder gently. “Again?” 

Virgil gave an incoherent grumble.

“Bad one?”

Another grumble, and Roman sat down next to him and leaned on the island, reaching down to give Virgil another pat on the shoulder. He tossed his towel up at Remus, who snatched it out of the air and took the hint. 

“We should establish who’s sharing beds.”

“Unless you have a reason to not share with Remus, I think that it’s pretty simple. Virge’s not so big on sleeping next to people he doesn’t know well, so sticking you together wouldn’t be great.” He shrugged. “It’s not exactly a goose and grain kind of thing. I mean, the three of us could try to sleep on the futon and leave V the couch, but that uh;” Roman trailed off, and flushed a little bit, looking down at Virgil instead. Because of that, he missed the slight darkening of Logan’s face as well, as he pictured that. 

That thought was a definite problem. Or rather, the fact that despite his better judgement he did still like Remus; and though they’d had fewer chances for conversation, everything he learned about Roman was just as appealing; a saner, more restrained but just as dramatic version of Remus- their similarities remarkable, given that hey hadn’t grown up together. The immediate image of being sandwiched between them, being the full and sole focus of their attention was… intense. He tried to think of something, anything else, and was arrested, suddenly, as Virgil yanked his hood open, making his face appear like a magic trick. An incredibly pretty magic trick, and he was smiling- just the tiniest twist at the edge of his mouth- up at Roman. 

He would have said three fifths of the group was entirely too good looking to be believed- but he had seen Patton take his shirt off eariler, and Logan was entirely too gay to function under these conditions. 

They hadn’t really moved when Remus came back out, towel wrapped around his waist. 

“I remember that shower being a lot bigger.” 

Virgil was going to kill, like all of nature. Why the fuck was it being so loud, it was one in the godamn morning. He stared up at the vaulted ceiling. He swore he could feel the supports through the thin mattress, which mostly smelled faintly of lysol. Someone was snoring, and he suspected it was Patton. Roman’s chest fell and rose rhythmically, but he’d been asleep when Virgil had come out of the shower, and had barely moved when he’d flung himself down more crossways on the bed, using Roman for a pillow as he scrolled tumblr. Not much was going on there either. He sighed and listened to Roman’s breathing again, closing his eyes. 

Virgil must have fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up.

Pinkish light was peeking through the patio door, where the shade had been pulled aside slightly, like someone had opened the door and closed it again, but that wasn’t why Virgil was awake. He could have sworn he heard something. Like a great thrumming vibrating chord- like being in a room with a pipe organ. Beside him Roman snorted a bit and rolled over, grabbing Virgil’s arm and trying to pull it back into being-used-as-a-pillow range. He wasn’t waking up, so it wasn’t a real sound. Had it been a dream? Virgil rubbed at an eye and yawned. Suddenly he stopped. It was dawn, and there should be birdsong; hell, even in town some birds sang at dawn, but it was oddly quiet. Then a single bird trilled and another answered it, and there was nature being annoyingly loud again. Roman might not have heard whatever-it-was, and obviously neither had Remus or Logan, or there’d be noise from the loft- but the birds had. 

That didn’t make Virgil feel any better. He got up and dug out his sharpening stones, and picked up the replica sword Roman had brought with him. He’d promised Roman not to sharpen any more of his toy weapons, but he thought this might be a special case. Sticking his earbuds in, he turned on some music, and slid the blade out of its sheath. 

Time passed again. Roman slept, the sun crept higher, changing the color of the light. Briefly, Remus came out of the loft and stared down at Virgil. He watched just a little bit too long; Virgil had noticed immediately and decided to ignore it. But eventually he looked up at Remus properly, which at least had the effect that Remus stopped staring and silently returned to the loft, presumably to bed. Virgil went back to sharpening. 

Sharpening swords was different than sharpening knives. He could sharpen knives in his sleep, and Roman seemed to think that he had. The strokes were longer, to match the length of the blade, and the angle a little different. He’d looked it up when the idea had first occurred to him, years ago. Even then there’d been a couple Youtube videos about it. Most of them started on a grindstone, which interested Virgil in the same way a different musical instrument did. But he didn’t have a grindstone; at that point he only had fairly basic whetstones. The fancy, excessive boxed set had been a present from Roman a while back. Roman’s argument had been, Virgil thought, purposefully reflective. Knives were less dangerous if they weren’t dull, because the cut was smoother and more even, and less force was needed to make cuts. So clearly it would be safer to do it with better whetstones. Then he’d rambled on about art and quality materials. Still, Virgil had been oddly touched. 

Smooth motions repeated over and over, long strokes down the length of the blade, leaving a handspan near the hilt unsharpened because sometimes it was used to change grips. He’d worked his way up from four hundred grit and was now at four thousand. Logan emerged, and rather than stare he’d fumbled down the narrow staircase and into the bathroom. Only after he’d finished his business there did he stop and watch Virgil. Virgil stopped and rolled his shoulders, stretching carefully. Once he felt less tight, he wiped the blade free of the oil, then his hands, and turned off the music, pulling an earbud out. 

“Is that soothing?” Logan asked. 

“Yeah. The repetitive motions help take me out of my head.” he tapped his temple. “And it’s quieter than playing an instrument so I can do it at night when people are asleep.” He picked up a piece of paper and dragged it delicately along the sharpened edge with a flick of his wrist. He didn’t need to do that, but he liked the appreciative lift to Logan’s eyebrows when he saw it. Virgil gave another careful swipe with the cloth and slid it back into place, concealing the hours worth of labor in the plain leather sheath. 

“Is it difficult?” Logan asked, adjusting his glasses. 

“Well, uhm.” Virgil wasn’t so sure how to answer that. His father had shown him how when he was a kid, and now he was just used to it. He remembered being frustrated when he was younger- but that might have just been being younger. His father had had a block set like this; though less fancy and obviously worn; Virgil didn’t use it, opting for Roman’s present instead, it was in a box somewhere. “It can be finicky. Some people don’t like how long it can take.”

“Anything worth doing is worth taking time with.” He was still dressed in an old, oversized tshirt and a pair of loose boxers, not having gotten dressed for the day yet. Virgil glanced down at his phone, wondering suddenly what time it was. It was nearly nine in the morning. Logan went to the row of their bags that lay against the wall, and after a moment produced a leather belt, which he brought over to Virgil. There was a pair of pouches on it, a small knife and a large sheath knife. “Would you mind?” Logan asked. “I am not familiar with maintenance; in all honesty, I’ve never owned a knife like this. Frankly,” he gave a weak laugh. “The knives I have are all fairly inexpensive, and I use one of those handled devices with the crossed sharpening dowels when I sharpen them, which most likely is not often enough. I don’t cook much.” 

“I can show you how?” Virgil offered. He wasn’t dressed either, wearing a loose tanktop and fleece pants. 

“I’d like that.” 

Virgil took a look at the knives, and was honestly surprised. The small knife was made of steel easily as nice as his best kitchen blade, and the large one- the one Logan had been wearing the day this shit all went down, hidden under his doublet, Virgil realised- was just as good if not better. 

“Where did you get these?” he asked. 

Logan sighed explosively, and opened the smaller pouch, pulling out four throwing stars, which made Virgil snort in amusement. 

“I’m sorry-” he said holding up a hand to try and prevent giving offense. “It’s just… throwing stars. They’re so ridiculously edgy try-hard. I mean,  _ I _ had some in college, but.” he gestured at himself. “I used to be  _ worse _ .” 

“No, I do understand the thought, I was treating them as a joke when we picked them.” he picked up the smallest, and this time Virgil stared as Logan walked it like a coin between his fingers. “Remus was very insistent that I learn some sort of martial skill, and I picked these rather than throwing knives- honestly because I liked their symmetry. But in answer to your question; in the tangle trap. You read the remains, I believe there was the shopping scene.” Logan gave a huff of air. “I’m not sure how substance came out of it, but it did. It’s been bothering me a great deal.” 

“Yeah, I can get that.” Virgil nodded, and looked over the knives again. “These are actually fairly sharp. The little one could take some sharpening but-” he patted the leg of his sleep pants as if reaching for something then snorted, and retrieved a pocket knife from his jeans. “This one’s just in okay shape because mostly I open boxes with it; but it’s not that great a knife in the first place; so you can practice on this.” Settling in beside Logan, he explained the use of each of the different grits, and talked about angles and motions. 

Virgil was experimenting with sharpening one of the throwing stars when the patio door slid open. That was when Roman sat up, sharply, hair tangled and sticking to his face, pressed there with an impression of the pull out mattress. Patton slipped in and blinked at them.

“Good morning!” he said cheerfully, and maybe a touch too loudly. A muffled expletive was heard from the loft, followed with a whine of what was certainly Logan’s name. 

“Morning.” Roman blinked a few times, and pulled a lock of hair out of his mouth. 

“I have excellent news!” Patton reported. 

“Mnn.” Roman mumbled standing up. “‘At’s great Mr. Foster. One sec…” and he stumbled towards the bathroom. “Having the weridest fuckin’ dream.” 

Virgil looked a little concerned, but only a little. When, moments later, Roman pounded back into the main room face wet and eyes wide, he only nodded. 

“Not a dream!” 

“No, but it would be pretty cool.” Patton laughed a little, wiping sweat off his face. It was clear that the morning was heating up. “Is everyone awake?” In answer to his question, Remus clambered down from the loft, and immediately went to Roman, poking him in the ribs before putting his arms around him and squeeze affectionately. Roman awkwardly hugged back “Remus- Remus no I didn’t pee- let go I gotta go!” he wiggled free and disappeared back into the bathroom, ignoring the fact that everyone was laughing. 

“So as I said, good news. It worked, the Cut is open.” Patton had brought the cushions back from the other room and had reassembled the couch. He still looked a little glossy with sweat, but he was smiling. “There was a little explosion; but nothing serious, mostly it got grounded in the plants, so there are a lot of flowering vines there right now. I stayed and watched it for a while, and judging from what I saw, we may be able to pass through as early as noon. If we wait until dusk, which I can understand if you don’t want to, it’ll be a gentler, safer passage.” 

The silence in the room was echoing for a long moment, each man lost in his own thoughts. 

“If we wait, we’d probably want to go back out for food.” Roman said thoughtfully. “The leftover pizza and drinks we’ve got is fine for breakfast but there’s not a lot of it.”

“There’s granola too.” Virgil offered. “I mean he’s right. I didn’t want to buy too much shit last night, so I only grabbed a couple things. We don’t have a pot to boil water in here, we’re pretty much squatting in an abandoned house.” 

“Before we leave we should bag up the trash and do something with it- perhaps the garage. There isn’t much food waste, so the majority is recycling.” Logan said thoughtfully. “Also we may want to put Virgil’s car in the garage as well so it doesn’t get reported to the police.” 

Virgil’s eyebrows went up, that hadn’t even occurred to him. 

“Just because we’re squatting doesn’t mean we shouldn’t leave the house in order.” Logan finished. 

“I appreciate that.” Roman nodded. 

“Would you guys mind if I grabbed a shower while you were working on that?” Patton asked, almost apologetically. Despite his verbal enthusiasm, he looked as though he’d spent the last few hours doing heavy labor. Since no one, not even Virgil had seen him leave the house, it was very likely that he’d headed out before dawn to do whatever it was he’d done to open the cut, and his vague talk of resonances aside, it had probably been the magical equivalent of cleaning a river or digging a ditch. 

One of the things Virgil had bought was a six pack of bottled iced coffee that everyone took turns making fun of as they applied themselves to eating the last of the food. It wasn’t bad, but it certainly wasn’t good. As milky and sickly sweet as it was, it was better than no coffee at all. After that, Logan and Remus set about cleaning up what little mess they’d made while Roman and Virgil freed the garage door from it’s kudzu curtain rendering it usable. 

“Are you scared?” Virgil asked as the garage door rattled down into place. “I mean...”

“Scared?” Roman gave a laugh “Are you kidding me, this is the dream, the explanation for my nightmares, a quest of noble and grandiose proportions worthy of my ambitions! Virgil, I am too  _ terrified  _ to be scared.” 

Snorting, he shoved Roman’s shoulder. 

“Right. As long as we’re on the same page.” He locked the car, then double checked. The car chirped and flashed the headlights. Roman put an arm around Virgil’s shoulders, and pulled him into a hug. He wasn’t much taller, but he leaned into it squishing the sides of their heads together. Virgil sighed theatrically, but submitted to the attention, even going so far as to put his arm around him in return, taking a quiet moment in the dim garage. The only real light was creeping in under the door from outside. 

Then suddenly light flooded in as the door opened, revealing Remus with a bag of recycling.

“Whoops~ I’ll just-” he put the bags down in a theatrically quiet way and shut the door just as softly. “Don’t let me interrupt.” 

Virgil groaned a bit, but he didn’t pull away from the hug. 

“Please make a move on Logan before Remus convinces himself we’re married.” 

Roman gave a helpless little gurgle, squeezing tightly. 

“I keep meaning to, and then every time Remus is already invading his personal space.” 

They headed inside to find Logan pinned to the counter between Remus’s arms being kissed and not particularly objecting to it. Roman gave an upset flourish of his hand as if to say ‘see?’ 

“I’m sorry.” Remus said, not sounding particularly sorry “I thought you two would be longer.” 

“Even if I was going to make out with Roman, a musty garage would not be my first choice.” Virgil said flatly. 

“Oh, and what would be?” Remus said “Just so I know.” 

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Virgil sighed. “Has anyone checked on Patton? He’s been in there a long time.” 

“D’ya think he fell and broke his hip?” Remus asked cheerfully. “I hear there’s an epidemic of that shit.”

“Patton is at most a decade older than I am; unless prolonged magical use weakens the bones, I doubt that’s it.” Logan said, rolling his eyes. 

“Nooo honeytrap, your poor hips-” Teased Remus, resting his hands on them. “Old and fragile and unexercised.” 

“If you want to imply I’m too old for you, by all means continue, but I don’t know where you plan to go with it.” Logan pulled away, rolling his eyes. A few minutes later, Patton emerged, smiling sheepishly. 

“I, uh… dosed off for a minute there, sorry about that. Did you guys come to a decision? About when we’re leaving?” 

“I think we should wait until evening. I mean, unless there’s going to be an orgy, it’s gonna be kind of boring to wait, but-” Remus drew his breath in over his teeth in a hiss. “Safety.” 

“Well, I’m gonna agree with Remus, which I did not expect. I mean, I think I have like, an uno deck, but I’d be more comfortable if we’d wait until dusk.” Patton admitted. 

“Well, I’m going to need some time to brain bleach the orgy image out of my head,” Virgil groaned. 

“Agreed.” Logan muttered, looking very studiously at the floor. 

“Well, I guess I can get some more civics and history lessons if Remus and Mr- I mean Patton don’t mind.” Roman scratched the back of his neck. 

“There is the question of where are we going to be arriving?” Logan asked “If this Cut is one you’ve used before; is the other side also out in the woods?” 

“It’s not like… close. That would be dangerous. You can’t build too close to a Cut, it’ll wear on the structures.” Remus explained.

“I have heard that some cultures do- very primitive, simple structures to mark where the cuts are.” Patton put in. “But no, in Sanders people tend to give them a bit of distance. There’s usually a circle of reflective stones or crushed shells in a perimeter around them so people know where they are.”

“But this was one near Mom’s villa. It’s fairly close, for Sanders. In the back of the garden, so there’s some landscaping, a pair of white quartz stones marking it. No one’s really been at the villa lately, so it’d be kind of overgrown, but there’s paths.” Remus’s face lit up a bit. “And Janus is there, so he’ll be waiting for us. We’ll have a place to sleep and something to eat before we move on.” 

“Sounds like a consensus then.” Virgil shrugged. “Time for more lackluster internet I guess.” 

He’d definitely sat through days that went slower, but not many. Remus and Patton were doing their best to tutor Roman, who to his credit was doing a decent job retraining the onslaught of information presented to him. Virgil kind of regretted sharpening the blades earlier, since that would have given him something to do now, besides stare into the distance, watching the dustmotes dance slowly in the sunlight, and contimplate how collossialy stupid he was being. 

In the end, he took the case off the instrument he’d brought. It had been an impulse purchase at an SCA event a few years ago; there had been a whole booth of instruments and he’d spent almost the entire day there, chatting with the merchant, and trying various instruments. At the end of the day, the merchant hadn’t made many sales, and Virgil had a bit of spare money, and he bought a tanbur. 

It was a nice instrument with a good sound- sort of like a lute; small, sturdy and easy to carry. Given everything else he was carrying it was better to go small, and there was no way he was going into a stressful situation without some sort of instrument to play and help get him out of his head. Tuning it up, he worked through a few songs before just sinking into the patterns of notes. Finally he stopped, stretching his fingers, and was surprised to find Logan sitting next to him on the floor, leaning against the wall and plainly listening. His shoulders hunched and his face got hot; it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to people hearing him play; he played for dancers at events, and Andy and Roman heard him play all the time. 

“Was that last one ‘Sounds of Silence’?” Logan asked gently. Virgil stretched his fingering hand and closed it around the neck of the instrument again. 

“Yeah.”

“You’re very good.” 

“I won’t play Wonderwall or Freebird.” 

“ _ And _ you have good taste. What a wonderful combination.” The edge of Logan’s mouth curled up in a smile. Virgil found himself smirking back and relaxed, letting the tanbur rest in his lap. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can certainly ask another;” Logan allowed. 

“Ro said that you spend like an hour working on something on a laptop in the Cafe every day. What were you doing?” 

“It may come as a surprise to you but I don’t consider myself good with people.” Logan sighed, leaning against the wall. “Mostly I was writing observations of people around me. Sometimes things that I’d observed earlier that day at the gym, or things I’d seen the day before. A memory and observation game.”

“That’s it?” Virgil seemed surprised. 

“Well.” He toyed with the end of a braid. “Sometimes I would… try to construct what the rest of their lives were like, from what I saw.”

“You were writing real-people-fic about passers by.” there was a laugh at the bottom of his voice, but it wasn’t judgemental. 

“I much prefer ‘analytical observations and suppositions’” he glanced over at Virgil. “But you’re not wrong, I suppose.” 

“It’s cool. We’ve all been guilty of it I think.” He fingered a chord, but didn’t pluck any strings. 

“I brought a few notebooks with me.” Logan said, not looking at Virgil. “Since we won’t be able to use our phones.” 

“We’ve all got our coping mechanisms.” Virgil sighed, trying not to think about how much he depended on his phone to fill hours when his thoughts got too much. “Are you looking forward to seeing more of it? Sanders I mean?”

“If we don’t die, it is going to be a unique experience.” 

“Well, let’s work on that then.”

“So I had a thought.” Patton said, getting their attention. “About how the Tangle-Trap’s physical component ended up here when the Cuts were closed.”

“Does this thought also explain how the things we were wearing and carrying came out with us?” Logan asked, a little interested. 

“Oh, no that’s just normal for a narrative tangle trap.” He flapped a hand. “But my best guess is that after Remus sprung the trap in Sanders, it sank right through the barrier. You said there were fae in the story?”

Logan gave a little shudder. He’d slept better the past couple nights since exiting the tangle trap, but it didn’t feel like a relief, it felt more like the strange nightmares were just waiting for him to lower his guard. 

“Yes. While we only encountered them once, I did see the colored fireflies that Remus indicated were indicative of a Fairy Hill’s presence at a distance a few more times.” he shifted. “And I would… have dreams. Which featured them. After the initial encounter.” 

“You never said.” Remus sounded concerned. 

“They were just dreams.” Logan said dismissively. “What’s the connection, Patton?”

“Well, given all it’s unusual traits, I think whoever made it had a fairy help. Even if they did nothing but supply materials from the hill it would give it so much more power. The changing worlds might have been to prevent it from ever being opened.” 

Remus’s jaw twitched, possibly picturing his imprisonment lasting longer. 

“Or just to make it more difficult; ordinarily a narrative tangle trap stays where it closed, a random book in a random location, or a precise one depending on how it was set. If you move it, it can affect the exit point. I mean, non-narrative tangle traps are more like mazes. They have a set location and you can’t move them. They can be on a door, trapping people in a twisted version of the house, or I saw a rug once. Honestly, this one is a real piece of work.” He tapped the moss green cover. “I’d love to find out who made it.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Remus mumbled. “I just wanna talk.” 

“Probably won’t happen.” Patton shrugged. “This is master-work level but they may not have even realised why they were making it. I’d be thanking God that it came into Logan’s hands, personally.”

“Oh, I do.” Remus agreed. 

“The first level of the spell caught Remus-” Patton made a closing trap motion with his fingers. “Then locked itself. My guess is there was a secondary spell that sent it through to an adjacent world. Cuts that non-living things can go through are much more common, and the artificial versions easier to create.” 

“I found a book I didn’t recognise in my bag. Completely ordinary looking, like a dirty book or the second part of a three novel set.” Remus admitted. “It didn’t even occur to me that it could be a trap until I was being pulled in.” 

“When I found it, the book looked like it had been treated roughly.” Logan volunteered. “And it was tied shut with leather ties that extruded from the binding itself, wrapping around and then terminating in a knot that was absolutely chaotic. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of those ties now, however, and in fact it’s in much better repair than when I bought it.” 

“And normally, when someone enters a narrative trap, they exit where the book is; but instead not only did you exit in Sanders, you exited in a fairly random place in Sanders. It was significant for Remus, but it didn’t have anything to do with where he was trapped.” 

“That’s true. It was lucky for us; since Janus was nearby, but there was no real reason to exit there.” Remus scratched the side of his jaw thoughtfully. “I hadn’t even been there in years, so it wouldn’t have been dumping me near a substantial trace of my energy.”

“Kiddo, I hate to say this, but…” Patton looked actually pained. “Can we trust Janus? I mean, I know he’s been your companion your whole life but-”

“More than I trust you.” Remus said sharply before Patton could go on. 

“Okay then. Maybe he was just thinking about you. It’s possible he even had done a recent seeking for you, and that pulled you in.” Patton moved on smoothly, rubbing the skin of his arm. 

“That sounds nice.” he propped his chin on his hands. “Would explain why he was so out of sorts if he’d been interrupted petting his python.” 

“He’s gotten a pet snake?” Patton asked. “I know he talked about that sometimes. Why would he be thinking of you while doing that?” There was a pause, and no one would meet his eyes, except Remus who was just grinning at him. “Oh. Wait.” he gave a pained smile. “I get it now.”

Remus fell off the back of the couch, cackling with laughter. 

There were clouds covering the sky in a sheet as they headed into the backlot. Each of them carried their own bags, like they were going on a camping trip. It was a strange assortment of backpacks, duffels and gym bags that carried their equipage. Virgil had the added burden of the musical instrument and the first aid kit, so Remus offered to carry the kit for him, which he accepted after a long moment's thought. Patton went first, expending a bit of magic to coax the plants in front of them to move a bit more, though they mostly were following the hacked path that Roman had made the other day. It was oddly silent, Logan thought. They walked in single file, one after the other. He had no idea how far it was going to be. No one had said anything, so he just continued walking behind Virgil and hoped, given the humidity beneath the tree canopy, that it wouldn’t be too far. 

When he felt the wind snaking through the trees, Logan was immediately reminded of those shining seconds when the tangle trap opened. It wasn’t much of a clearing, but it was noticeable. The tree canopy which had been very close and dense opened up a bit, he noticed, displaying the darkening sky. 

“Do you have to do anything? I mean, is the passage just open?” Logan inquired. “I mean in a way people and animals can pass through? Is it only open at certain times?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that. That’s not to say that people and animals can’t accidentally activate Cuts.” Patton explained, adjusting the strap of his bag. “It’s like… pushing aside a curtain? If you can feel it, you can do it; and for Marked Mages, being used to manipulating energy, it’s easier for us. But just to be careful-” He offered his hand to Virgil who took it uncertainly, before offering his hand to Roman at Patton’s prompt. Logan found himself linked between the twins. Patton reached out, and walked forward, drawing them behind himself. 

Logan could have wished for something to happen- a glowing disk to open in the air, like Stargate, a sourceless burst of light and wind like the tangle trap, or even a heat shimmer as though they were stepping into a mirage, but there was nothing. One moment his feet were on the vine-choked ground of the overgrown scrub forest in a humid Florida dusk, and the next step his foot found a gravel pathway, and the sky was clear, stars winking into visibility. He took a deep breath, the air less humid and cooler, though there was the scent of water still. Logan noted a strange taint of woodsmoke in the air, but the lack of… something, which a chemical reader would probably identify as exhaust. Roman squeezed his hand, probably unconsciously, as some primal part of him recognized where he was.

Logan was again in a strange, foreign world.

But Roman was home.


	5. .Book Five.

Even in the twilight it was clear that they were in an overgrown garden- over grown in an entirely different way than the back lot they’d been in before. Flowers rioted in beds between gravel paths, and when he turned around there was a tall wall with two large stones of glinting white quartz set into it. No break, but clearly framing something. 

“Is it strange I feel weirdly disappointed?” Virgil commented. “I mean, not like I wanted a welcoming committee, but this could almost just be somewhere in Florida.” he shivered a little. “Okay, not quite, it is definitely cooler and less humid.” 

“Oh, don’t worry.” Remus said cheerfully. “In a couple of days you can meet a Beast Hearted, and you can have a tidy little nervous breakdown then.”

“Great.” He drawled sarcastically. “I’ll put it on my schedule. Is that a light over there?” he raised a hand and pointed in the distance, where golden light silhouetted house like shape. It certainly wasn’t as far away as they’d walked to get to the Cut, but it wasn’t exactly close. 

“That’s the villa! Let’s go!” he cheerfully skipped down the pathway, plainly pleased to be home, his quest to find his brother complete, and knowing that his companion was waiting for him in a familiar place. 

As they got closer, Virgil shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“I… I have a bad feeling. Something is off.” 

“No offence, Virgil, but you don’t have any context, how could you know that?” Patton asked. 

“ _ I don’t know _ !” Virgil said sharply. Ahead of them, Remus turned and stared at him. Everyone was silent in the wake of his snap. In the silence, a murmur of voices reached their ears. Remus turned back towards the villa and looked at it critically for a second. 

“... that’s a lot of light.” he said quietly, almost confused. 

“Wasn’t Janus here alone?” Logan asked. 

Patton pressed the first two fingers of his hands behind his ears, and closed his eyes.

“That’s no longer the case.” he breathed. “There is-” his eyes opened. “There’s a squad of men there. They- they’re looking for you, Remus!” 

Janus gritted his teeth, and stared resolutely at the squad sergeant. He didn’t have it in him to be really respectful, given that he was being held in place with his arm twisted behind his back, and they wore the usurper’s badge. 

“Is it not enough to be exiled from polite company?” he demanded. “Does impolite company need to follow me?”

“We tried being civil.”

“Oh?”Janus blinked as if shocked “To whom?” 

“It’s considered polite to answer questions.” the sergeant drawled. “I asked you where the mad duke was.” 

“And I told you I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a year. He disappeared, you may have heard? Abandoned me.” He tipped his face into the lamp light purposefully, letting his hair slide away from the scar tissue that marred it. “Even if I was more to him than Marked, do I look like something useful or appealing now?” 

“I don’t know.” said one of the soldiers with a snigger. “I hear all things about his taste.” they had a good laugh about that, and Janus sighed explosively, waiting it out. 

“If that’s true, why are you here?” he guestered at the somewhat worse for wear villa. 

“I don’t have many opinions. I knew it would be empty. I didn’t really feel up to facing society with this face.” He gave a tight little smile. “Look at all the answers I’m giving you, isn’t this nice and friendly? Do you think you could have your friend let go? I rather need the arm he’s trying to dislocate.” 

“Aw are you in pain? Midra, why don’t you make him more comfortable?” 

Janus yelped as the arm was twisted again, driving him to his knees in the courtyard. A boot pressed against his head, pushing it down further, and he let it, flipping his head to keep the sensitive scars off the pea gravel. He tried to pivot a bit to ease the pressure on his arm, but they didn’t seem interested in breaking it, just causing him as much pain as possible. 

“How about now?”

“You certainly know how to show a man a good time.” 

“I don’t know if you’re aware, Janus Dean, but there is a reward out for people involved in the rebellion. Even useless ones. We have bigger fish to filet than you, and are perfectly willing to let you go back to your moldering gardening, but you have to give us something.” He chuckled. “And frankly, information seems all you have you could offer us.” 

“Dunno.” said Midra twisting his wrist. “He’s not bad looking from this angle.” 

“Charming.” Drawled Janus and winced as his arm was yanked again. 

“Sergeant Eden!” the door slammed all the way open. “Look what I found!” 

Janus couldn’t quite make out what the soldier brought the sergeant from his current position, but somehow he doubted it was one of his books on herbal medicine. 

“Well well.” The spiked head of a mace crashed to the ground next to his head and he winced, as a pebble leapt and struck him. “Strange sort of lover’s token you’re keeping. A little much just for protection, don’t you think? And very much in the style of the fellow you say deserted you.” 

“It could be quite the fashion.” he smiled. “What better way to say I love you than heavy weaponry?” He opened his mouth to go on and the cold kiss of steel slipped between his lips. Janus was a talker, it was true, but even he knew when to shut up. 

“Now I want you to consider the next thing you say very carefully,” Eden said pleasantly, and drew the tip of his saber out from between Janus’s lips, trailing it over the scars on his cheek, pressing in slightly against a speck of ink that peeked between them. He could feel blood seeping out from where the blade had bit into the flesh during its passage. “Where is the Duke?”

“RIGHT HERE, MOTHERFUCKER!” 

The tip of the sword cut deeper into his face as the sergeant was bodily knocked down with a full on tackle. His captor put more pressure on his arm and Janus cried out without meaning to, almost drowning the words 

“Stop or I’ll-” which were broken off as someone else grabbed him by the wrist stopping it from moving. His eyes watering from pain, Janus could barely make out odd shoes as his tormenter bellowed in pain and the hand holding him released, allowing him to draw his arm in and curl in a defensive ball. Midra went tumbling down, tripping over Janus’s body. Whoever had freed him gave a swift kick, hard enough that the soldier started to retch. The shoes shuffled and stepped past him, kicking again. 

“Lay on!” yelled a voice nonsensically, and there was a strange garbled laugh, and gravel sprayed against his back. A moment later, before he managed to remove his hand from his bleeding cheek, someone touched his shoulder. “Hey, back up with me.” The voice was slightly rough, but musical. “They’re doing okay, but we should get out of the way.” This was not one the squad and he squinted up at dark gray eyes, framed in purple bangs, and eyebags that spoke of stress and restless nights. Beyond that, he heard the bark of a command spell, and heard Remus’s wild laughter. The squad of the usurper’s men hadn’t had a mage, just counter charms. Remus was back, already, and he had brought people with him. One hand still holding his face, he clutched at the stranger’s shoulder with his other hand, coming up to his knees and turning to look.

Remus was just coming to his feet, blood on his hands. There was probably blood on his shirt and pants, but both were black, so it didn’t show in the lantern light. In one hand he held his long knife, doubtless the source of the blood, and in the other, he’d gotten a hold of the mace. Then Janus had to blink, because there was also Remus in a white shirt with red trim, tucked into red pants wielding a sword. He drew in air sharply through his teeth. No. Yes. It couldn’t be and it had to be.

He had brought Roman back to Sanders. 

They had intended on stealth, and that had gone out the window when Remus saw what was going on. Roman wished that he’d had more time to accept the reality before entering actual, deadly combat. So maybe he was a little less than deadly when separating the figure that was almost certainly Janus from their captor, even though the soldier had gone for a knife. Roman was afraid that he’d broken the man’s wrist when he made him let go of Janus. He seemed unconscious now, at least. But their opponents had swords- and holy shit, Remus had gone for the kill, the guy he’d tackled was bleeding out on the ground as Remus stood up. So much blood. Roman froze for an instant. What was he supposed to do?

“Lay on!” Snapped Virgil behind him, giving him a shove. Somehow, that did it. This was combat. He could do this. He laughed a little and launched himself forward, towards the squad, drawing the sword he’d strapped to his hip half as a joke, half as an easier way to carry it. He let himself focus on not getting hit, going for what he’d always jokingly called ‘the jedi stroke’ blade licking out past his opponent’s and slashing at wrists. The first one was armored against it, but the second had to drop their sword, blood gushing from a deep slash. Patton yelled something, and Roman got to witness half the opponents they faced fall to their knees; the same spell that had caught them a few days before. Remus was plowing into them, and some of the others were starting to circle around- they were outnumbered two to one just on numbers alone, and there was no way Virgil was going to be joining in, and probably not Logan. 

Well the numbers weren’t quite that bad now. Remus was devastating, though now the blood he sported was partly his. When Roman realised that a couple of the soldiers were trying to circle them- not to flank them but to go after the people behind them, suddenly he found the reluctance he’d had disappeared beneath protective instincts. Honestly, he would have expected soldiers to be better fighters. They seemed slow compared to opponents he’d fought before. If he was fighting any one of them one-on-one he wouldn't have been worried at all. Still, he wished he had a shield, as he managed to glance a blow off his blade, flat against his palm. He slashed out, a broad stroke that forced them back. It was dark enough he almost didn’t see the blood that followed it. 

“So, can I get a look at that?” Virgil said, and coaxed Janus’s hand away from the cut on his face. Breath hissed between his teeth in sympathy. It was deep, dragging from the corner of his mouth in a jagged line upward. They hadn’t really moved, but Remus and Roman had forced the fight away from where they were. He glanced over. There were bodies on the ground. He dragged his attention back to the injury, opening his kit. As he did, he felt Janus’s hand tighten on his shoulder- the man Roman had kicked in the head was sitting up, and for some reason, intent on attacking them. A knife was flying at him, and he heard Janus hiss something, the hazel eye in the scarred side of his face flashing. The knife kept coming, and Virgil snatched it out of the air without thinking, heart beating like a hummingbird. 

The mage beside him gaped. Virgil could understand. It was a stupid trick and it had no right to have worked in this situation. Why in hell hadn’t he dodged instead? Stupid trick, stupid instincts, and he and Andy were both stupid for practicing untill they could do it. They could have killed each other. The soldier was clutching at the wrist Roman had broken strangely, like he was trying to pull something off of it. Virgil flipped the knife in his hand, and flung it back, with force that would have gotten it stuck in the wooden target he used to practice on. He figured the guy would dodge but be scared. Instead it hit just below the sternum and sunk in deep. There was a gurgle, and blood spurted from his mouth as he tipped over, but his attention was still on his wrist. 

Janus blinked the gold from his eye, and his jaw fell open, focus turning on Virgil. Virgil meanwhile shoved his panic down as hard as he could, breaths coming almost as fast as his heartbeats.

“T- tell me if anyone else tries to attack us.” he said, and tore open an alcohol wipe. “This is going to hurt.” 

“Yes, I just had a sword slice into my cheek but this is going to- SON OF A BITCH!”

Patton was standing just past the corner of the house they’d come around. His arm was extended, facing the fight, and unlike when he’d used the spell in the apartment, he kept it in place. It was trembling like he was holding up a weight. Unwilling to join the battle- and frankly unsuited, the remainder of his throwing stars were in with his clothing, and while he could certainly punch someone, they had swords- Logan stood with him. While Roman was involved with fighting two men who had escaped the command, Remus finished the person he’d been fighting, and was approaching the men whose legs had collapsed. His mace went up and came down like a wrecking ball, apparently unconcerned with how little they could fight back. One of them managed to throw their arms up wardingly and that only resulted in the arm being shattered. 

His stomach churned at the slaughter. 

“Remus!” yelled Logan. “We’ll probably need answers.” 

Remus lazily saluted in their direction in acknowledgement, and with the people he’d been holding no longer in need of it, Patton collapsed to his hands and knees, dry heaving. Somehow, knowing that this level of carnage wasn’t common enough that Patton was used to it made Logan feel better. As Remus moved to help his brother, Logan forced himself forward, towards the bodies. He had signed up for this. He could have gone back to his schedule, his endless rounds of work and pleasant hobbies. He wouldn’t be checking for life in the bodies of armed soldiers. He’d never see this much blood outside a horror movie. Well. His life was never going to be the same anyway. The one with the broken arms was probably the best bet. There was a scream and he carefully didn’t look towards it, though he also heard Roman yelp. 

“I’m coming up behind you, Logan.” Patton called softly. Out of the corner of his eye, Logan watched the motion he was starting to get used to, of pressing fingers to a patch of tattoo, then twisting it outward. Rather than a net, this one looked more like scattering grain to animals. Little dots of light scattered across the courtyard, bouncing across. Most of the lights flickered and died. Patton sighed, almost sadly. One of them lingered, flickering on the soldier Logan was beside, and Patton joined him. 

The man’s forearms were snapped, pretty cleanly, and the skin stretched in an uncomfortable looking way but the bones didn’t protrude, so Logan thought that was a good sign. His first urge was to google what to do, but that was unavailable. 

“Hold his shoulders, please.” Patton prompted. “Hello there!” he addressed the soldier. “I’m very sorry things ended up this way.” The soldier groaned something uncomplimentary. “I was hoping for a more peaceful resolution myself.” he continued as if he hadn’t been cussed at. “I intend to stop your pain, but I want you to understand that your arms will still be broken.” Patton drew a shape with his finger, then slid his hand around the man’s neck, fingertips drawing along the man’s spine. There was a sudden intake of air, like his breath was suddenly coming better, and he lay still, though Logan kept a strong hold on his shoulders, just in case. “We won’t be able to splint those just yet, but I’m going to set them, and I need you to not move, okay kiddo?”

“Yes.” despite the fact there was no more pain the word was still a gulp. 

“Where’s your counter charm? You’re not wearing it against your skin like you’re supposed to.” Patton urged. “If I can take it off, I can help you more; I’m no healing Mark, but I can do a bit to make sure you don’t get blood poisoned.” 

The soldier whimpered, and Logan looked at his chalk-white face. Despite the light beard that his chin was sporting he looked very young. 

“Its… it’s on my vest, sir.”

“Logan, I need to hold his arms so they don’t move more. I need you to get his counter charm. What you’re looking for will either be a metal disk or an embroidered patch.” 

Logan nodded, and took a knife off the boy’s belt to slit the lacings on his light armor, giving him access to the next layer, a waist-coat like vest. Sure enough there was an embroidered patch over his heart, small but visible stitches holding it in place. 

“Sir, sir I can feel my bones moving.” he whimpered.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Patton assured him, as Logan started cutting the stitches as quickly as possible. “But isn’t it nicer not to be in pain?” 

“Yes, sir.” he answered weakly. The patch came free, and he relaxed completely, a limp puddle of a person. 

“Should I look for more of these?” Logan asked, jerking his head towards the other bodies. One of the lights that was still bobbing flickered and went out as he watched. Patton flinched. 

“I think that can wait.” 

The last man had tried to retreat, to run. The courtyard was an extended horseshoe shape, buildings on three sides and a gated wall on the fourth. The gate was halfway open, but the soldier had gotten turned around in combat. His retreat was stopped by a wall, and he spared a glance back like he was considering trying to scale it. He glanced back at Roman who was holding his sword in front of himself, breathing heavily. 

“If you surrender real quick, it may take.” he panted. “But I’m probably going to be the only one who’d take it, so-” 

The saber clattered at Roman’s feet, followed by the man’s long knife. He pressed his back to the wall and raised his hands up, likewise pressing them in plain view. He was looking past Roman, so he didn’t have any faith it was really him that inspired it. That being said, he extended his sword, resting it on the soldier’s shoulder, just as an encouragement to stay still, before glancing back. 

“A little messy, but good show.” Remus said. A spatter of blood had marked his face, and there was definitely blood on both his weapons. 

“I’ll bet you consider that a compliment.” Roman said weakly. 

“Isn’t it?” Remus asked, tipping his head. “I mean, kinda tossed you in the deep end here.” 

“The noises were… different.” Roman looked down and saw a spatter of blood across his shirt, and swallowed. “I… I guess I need to clean my sword.” 

“Attaboy.” Dropping his mace to the ground, Remus gave him an encouraging smack on the shoulder, and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping down his knife and sheathing it before passing the stained cloth over. “Face the wall.” He ordered the soldier. 

“Are you going to kill me?” He demanded. “Because I’d rather see it coming.” 

“What? Nah, Ro here said you could surrender, and it’s not nice to kill other people’s prisoniers. You get to be chatty! Won’t that be fun?” 

“You… you killed my squad.” 

Remus turned him around bodily, taking off his belt, shaking off the pouch and sheathes, before tying his hands with it. 

“I think there’s at least one more person alive, so that’s not even technically decimation.” He pressed the man’s face to the wall briefly. “So don’t push it.” 

“Remus.” Roman said softly. He glanced back. “I’ve got it. Why don’t you go check on Janus?” Remus immediately let go and darted back. 

“Who  _ are  _ you?” demanded the soldier. 

“I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot- or no, probably not.” Roman sighed deeply, and gently pulled on his bound arms, walking him away from the wall. “My name is Roman. It seems like you already know my brother, at least by reputation.” 

“I … do… do you really expect me to  _ believe  _ that?” the soldier demanded. “I’ll admit, it’s really impressive; whatever it is you’re planning. But there’s no way.”

“No way what? That I’m who I say I am? Sadly this job doesn’t seem to come with convenient birthmarks in inconvenient places. Or even a handy magical sword only I can wield. So I guess, thank you for giving me a taste of what’s to come. But…” he looked around consideringly, and pulled gently at the ties, steering the soldier along with him. “I am Roman. I am Remus’s twin. And if that makes me a Prince of Sanders, that’s just something we’re all going to have to learn to deal with.” He pushed him back against a hitching post, and took the rest of the belt, tying it in place. He got another look at the courtyard, and his lips thinned, going a bit white at the edges. Without saying anything else, Roman trotted around the corner of the building they’d come from.

“That’s a lot of bandage.” Remus said, going to one knee next to Virgil.

“It’s in a bad place.” Virgil jerked sideways as Remus reached out and took Janus’s hand. 

“You’re an idiot.” Janus told him. “You couldn’t have waited ten seconds for him to move the sword?” 

“No, I really couldn’t.” His hand cradled the other man’s face. 

“Don’t you dare try and peek under that.” Virgil growled, shoving the paper scraps back into his kit. “I’m pretty sure I can’t get him to stop talking.”

“Oh you absolutely cannot.” 

“So we can at least keep it clean. It didn’t pierce his cheek at any point, so stitches would have caused more trouble than they’d be worth. There some butterfly strips under there, but I wanted to keep the sutures for later because if this-” Virgil gestured around them, “Happens in the first ten minutes we’re here, it’s only going to get worse.” He got to his feet, dusting gravel off his knees where it had stuck from his kneeling on it. 

“Thanks for trying to preserve my good looks.” Janus said sarcastically, though he was leaning into Remus’s hand. “I’m sure it was no wasted effort at all.” 

“Whatever.” Virgil sholderd the kit, and walked away. 

He stopped at the twisted body lying in a pool of blood a few feet away, staring at it like that would make it go away- or like he was fixing it in his mind. Then he followed Roman around the corner. 

Roman was on his knees, retching pathetically into the bushes. Despite the fact he felt very similar, Virgil swallowed down his nausea. 

“What up, prince harming?” he said, rubbing between Roman’s shoulder blades, “How you doing?” 

“I’m a murderer.” Roman whimpered. “Like a fucking serial killer.” 

It took Virgil a few moments to come up with a good answer to that, because he felt very similarly. “It’s okay, it was self defense.” 

“Do you believe that?”

“I have to.” The image of a knife buried in a man’s chest floated up, and Virgil swallowed it down. Roman made a grabby hand at him, and he knelt so he wrap him in his arms. “I hope you’re done puking, because if you throw up on me, I’m tossing you in the river.”

“You say the sweetest things, Emo and the two Strings.”

“That was weak.” Virgil sniggerd, somehow relieved at the terrible nickname. “It’s okay. We’re all okay.” Both of them went tense at the sound of feet on the gravel path, but it was just Logan coming around. They weren’t quite to where they’d abandoned their bags, but well out of sight of the courtyard, hidden in the shadows. 

“Ah.” He adjusted his glasses. “Are the two of you unharmed?” 

Roman assessed that, not moving from where he’d wrapped his arms around Virgil. 

“I’m not hurt, I have some cuts, but they’re shallow.” His mind flashed to the sight of a blade coming towards him and he tightened his grip. 

“Wanna join the ‘people from the real world realising they killed someone pile’?” Virgil offered. Logan stiffened slightly, just barely noticeable with his normal posture. 

“I have not killed anyone,” he said.

“Oh.”

“... tonight.” hesitantly he moved over to them. As he got closer, Roman freed a hand and offered it. 

“I give pretty damn good hugs?” 

“Well, now I just have to judge.” Logan sat on the path, and let himself be drawn into the slightly trembling hug. Roman gave an oddly content sigh, letting his head drop down to where Logan and Virgil’s shoulders met. 

It  _ was  _ a pretty good hug. He couldn’t help but compare it to being held by Remus; but it was vastly different. Remus’s embrace had been soothing, and protective, this was more warm and without pity, just understanding. A great deal of emotion to ascribe to a simple embrace.

“You shouldn’t call it ‘the real world’ Virgil.” Logan murmured, voice low since their heads were so close together. “Remus got exceptionally tetchy when I did.” 

“I’ll save it for a special occasion then.” He took a deep breath and held it, fingers tapping on Roman’s shoulder, then let it go just as slowly. “How did you deal with it?”

“I compartmentalized, mostly.” Logan admitted. “Trying to convince myself it was fictional made it… worse. I accepted the reality of the situation. It was real when it happened; it was more than a dream.” This time Virgil’s fingers tapped on Logan’s shoulder, a lopsided, grounding rhythm. Logan took a series of deep breaths. “Still- I doubt that will be the last time I’m in a situation like that.” 

“Just... accept it?” Roman asked, baffled. 

“There isn’t much else we can do. We can make an effort to not have it happen again; but what has happened cannot be changed.” 

“You’re like a very specific kind of fortune cookie, Logan.” Roman lifted his head, and pulled them both closer. “But thanks. That… helps, I think.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, throwing up seems to be a perfectly normal part of one’s first taste of deadly combat. It does not mean you’re weak in the least.” 

“I don’t know.” Janus responded, shaking his head. He was still being held tightly against Remus’s bloody chest, but he was willing to let that pass for now. “It seemed to come out of nowhere. They rode up out of the dusk; at first I thought they’d seen a light and were coming to impose themselves on whatever unlucky bastard they found. But they had come here, specifically, looking for you.” unconsciously, he traced a hand over his cheek, ghosting over the bandage that was taped in place before letting slender fingers rest on Remus’s hand. “A full mounted squad. That is hardly usual. I’ve had a few bounty hunters who wanted information, but I came here shortly after-” again his hand rose and touched the left side of his face. “But for the most part I’ve been left alone until now.” 

Patton rocked on the balls of his feet. It felt like his ink was itching. It hurt to look at Janus’s face, and the pinkish scar tissue where he remembered gold and green ink. There were methods for removing tattoos but most of them involved magic, not scouring the skin away. The news that Janus wasn’t the first or last Marked Mage that had been assaulted like that was chilling. More chilling was how prepared the ones who took Janus had been. Janus was a strong mage, with a fierce will and focus. To counteract that long enough to do what had been done would take more than countercharms, it would take a mage of similar power. 

Remus was peppering Janus’s face with kisses, avoiding the bandage, but skirting close, as Janus verbally complained about the treatment but let his slender fingers trace over the cuts on the duke’s arms, smoothing them closed. He sat up and tried to pull away suddenly.

“Remus- Remus your brother is coming- Remus I don’t want to meet your brother while I’m sitting in your lap- Remus let me go” he pushed at Remus’s chest which only made him pull him closer. 

“Should have thought of that before you got yourself all tortured up, babysnakes.” Remus mumbled, burying his face in the other man’s hair. 

“It was hardly torture, Remus let go! Logan was bad enough, I am a man with  _ dignity, _ and” he stopped struggling, and composed his face to look serene and calm as Roman, Virgil and Logan came around the corner, carrying the abandoned luggage. They skirted the mess and dumped the bags just inside the still-open door. 

“Logan, you continue to astound me with your ability to make Remus show restraint.” Janus said as they approached. 

“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I do have to admit I didn’t expect that I would see you again.” He tipped his head to the side, the damaged side of his face hidden in shadow. “I hope it’s a pleasure for everyone involved.” Turning his attention, he stared at Roman for a long moment, then extended a hand. “Your highness. It is an absolute pleasure and honor to meet you at last.” 

Whatever Janus was expecting, it was not for Roman to take the extended hand, and bow elegantly over it before kissing the knuckles. 

“The pleasure is mine, I’m sure.” Roman said gallantly. “Though I suppose you’ve had more of a chance to hear about me than I have about you.” 

Patton couldn't help but giggle at the stunned expression on the other mage’s face. 

“This is Virgil Loi, but I suppose you’ve sort of met already.” Roman offered.

“You can relax, I’m not going to kiss your hand.” Virgil said, wiggling a few fingers in a vague wave. “And I am all for getting to know each other and all but…” he inclined his head at the mess that was left of the squad. “I sure want to know what we’re doing next.” 

“If we hadn’t taken prisoners, we could have just dumped them in the canal for the river horses. It could still be an opinion?” Remus suggested. 

“I don’t know what kind of reputation you enjoy, but I don’t think that’s really my style.” Roman said, rubbing the back of his neck. “So uh, table that for now?” 

“One thing at a time then; the living, the dead, and their horses.” Logan said. 

“You’re going to have to let me go.” Janus said softly. Remus gave a rumbling growl. “And don’t mutilate bodies just because you’re unhappy.” he added as he was reluctantly released. Getting to his feet, he rolled his shoulder and rubbed it a bit, making sure it was unharmed. 

“Right, mutilate the prisoners, got you.” Remus rose up in a smooth motion. 

“Patton and I will handle the prisoners.” Janus said firmly. “Between the two of us we should have their secrets out in short order.”

“And I can call a storm to come tonight.” Patton added. “It’s not far away, and that should wash the blood off the courtyard.” pausing he added. “Get their counter charms off of them if you can, Logan. I don’t know if you have any religious objections to handling corpses, but-”

“Religion has very little to do with any of my choices.” Logan said. “I can attempt that; as well as anything that looks relevant. I doubt they have written orders, but I can look. If the stable is sound I can lead their horses there as well.” He turned. “Virgil, would you rather help me search the bodies, or move them? Breaking into groups of two makes sense.”

“Oh boy.” Virgil laughed weakly. 

“You don’t have to-” Roman started. 

“Nope. Nope.” He shook his head sharply. “Let’s loot the bodies and pet the ponies, Logan. A fun thursday night for everyone.” 

“Cheer up, raccoon-boy they don’t smell yet!” Remus offered brightly. 

Virgil would have been hard pressed to decide which was the worst part. Was it that he was doing it at all? The fact the bodies were still warm? How easy he adjusted to doing it? It was all pretty terrible. The bodys still being warm was better than the other things, honestly, because he could pretend it was some sort of interactive haunted house that had splurged on jugs of fake blood only to find out that it wouldn’t keep. 

Logan had shown him the countercharm that they’d taken off the boy with the broken arms, adding that Patton said it might also be on a pendant. They discovered pretty quickly that all the soldiers were wearing a light chain with a series of pendants on it, one of which was consistent in shape and had names and dates stamped on them. The rest varied by person, if he had any guess they were probably mixed good luck charms. The countercharm was an oblong charm the size of the first digit of a thumb, engraved with an eight armed design interwoven with four interlocked circles. It made Virgil’s eyes water to look at it too long, automatically trying to trace the pattern. The same design appeared on the patches, only in color, and that made it slightly easier to look at. Rather than take the whole necklace- which felt entirely too much like looting, even if they were also going through their pouches- they traded Virgil’s pocket knife back and forth, slipping it into the pierced metal it hung by and prying it until it snapped. 

One of the soldiers was wearing both the patch and the charm, which he found morbidly amusing. They’d been curled up, clutching at their arm, which was laid open in a pair of slashes like an lopsided x, one shallower than the other, which left their chest covered thickly in blood. It looked like they’d tried to stop the bleeding with a handkerchief. As Virgil cut the patch away, he heard a moan, and stopped. He pressed his fingers to their throat, then to their mouth. 

“This one’s alive!” he called. 

“What?!” 

The not-quite-a-corpse was curling back around their arm, pressing the makeshift compress back into place. Virgil tore the patch free, and a little dot of foxfire flared weakly into existence over the kid’s head, flickering with their shallow breaths. He pulled the arm out again, applying more firm pressure and Janus was beside him, hair sliding over his shoulder as he irritably tucked it back behind his mangled ear. 

“That’s it-” he said softly. “You want to live, don’t you- feel your serpent.” He made a pinching gesture. “Hold his arm steady, and take the pressure off.”

“But-” 

“Don’t worry.” 

Virgil did as he was told, watching blood ooze up. Janus drew his hand down each of the gashes, the shallower vertical slash, and the deeper horizontal one. The wounds closed up behind his fingers, flesh knitting together into scar tissue. Virgil was pretty sure if the depths had been reversed they wouldn’t have lived. As it was it took several passes on the deeper one to get it closed. Virgil wiped the remaining blood away, and Janus swayed, leaning against him for a moment. 

“He’s not going to bleed out now, but the blood loss he’s already suffered and shock might get him.” using Virgil’s shoulder he got to his feet. “Patton, darling, this one has changed categories, come move him with that ridiculous bulk of yours.” 

“I can’t believe how much I missed you.” Patton chuckled but came over as directed, scooping the soldier up, as Virgil hastily grabbed the belt knife to finish disarming him. 

“Why didn’t you just-” Virgil made a zipping motion along his own cheek.

“You were being so very kind,” Janus said dryly “Also, you probably don’t know this, being from a magicless wasteland, but most healing magic can’t be done on oneself.” 

“Well that’s fucking bullshit.” 

“I tend to think of it more as not being able to build a wall by taking bricks from the bottom.”

“Alright, fine that makes sense.” He looked at the patches and charms in his hand. 

“Those are very good.” Janus said before turning away. “The patches have the usurper’s device, but you may want to keep a metal. You won’t have much by way of magic resistance.” 

Roman nudged Virgil as he passed. “Thanks for spotting that.” wrinkling his nose he took the feet of one of the bodies as Remus took the head, bringing it into the stable that made up half the wall of the courtyard. 

Logan was wiping his hands off, and staring at the line of horses who seemed utterly uninterested in the combat that had taken place in front of them. Virgil looked at them with distaste. 

“I am hardly going to claim they are more afraid of you; because the only thing the damn things fear is something moving in their peripheral vision, like a leaf- but they are certainly more docile than any animal short of a well trained dog.” Logan said. Even still he was cautious in reaching out and taking the reins of two of the horses. Fortunately for his dignity, they came along well enough. Biting his lips, Virgil slowly grabbed the reins of two more, and followed Logan into the stable. He was arrested by Remus, shirtless and wet, chasing Roman with a wad of wet fabric that was probably his shirt. Logan just sighed and tightened his grip, and Virgil fumbled as one of the horses threw their head up. 

“If you’re finished,” Logan said blandly, “Why don’t you show Virgil how tack works? I’m sure you’d do it much better than I could, given that you taught me.” 

Remus wiped the last bit of blood off of himself, and threw the shirt at Roman who caught most of it, but still got smacked with a wet edge. 

“I’ll do it for a kiss.” He offered playfully, tipping his face towards Logan. Logan sighed and rolled his eyes, then leaned in pressing a kiss to Remus’s cheek. To everyone’s surprise, Virgil dropped a kiss on Remus’s other cheek at the same time. 

“Ha!” Remus laughed, pulling back, eyes sparkling. “I’m  _ blessed _ .” he gestured theatrically to the stalls on the other end of the stable. “Right this way, Sir Prize.” 

“Oh fuckoff.” Virgil mumbled, following along. “Show me how to play with these weird dogs.” 

Roman blinked and stared after them. Huh. That was a weird feeling. Virgil was probably right; he should try flirting with Logan. 

He was getting pretty sick of being jealous of Remus.

“You didn’t say that I’d stink.”

“I am very sorry, I honestly forgot about that part.” 

“Ugh.” Virgil plunged his hands into the warm bucket of water again. He officially hated horses just by association now; and given how much he'd had to side step, and that one that had tried to take a bite out of his hair, he was only going to end up hating them more. 

“But did you learn something?”

“Other than they’re satan’s riding beasts?” Logan stared him down with faint amusement and Virgil finally shrugged. “Yeah. I could probably do that again.” He sighed. “And I’m going to have to, aren’t I?” 

“Yes probably.” 

They were just outside the door to the kitchen. Patton and Janus were inside, cooking, which had sort of surprised Roman. However, while he was living in their mother’s villa, Janus hadn’t brought any kind of servants with him. He had a few animals- who had a separate barn from the stables, though the chickens tended to go wherever they pleased- and the lower part of the garden was tended, planted thickly and neatly with vegetables. 

The complex was too big for one person. It was probably intended for a large family. In addition to the courtyard and gardens they’d seen, there was a secondary courtyard surrounded on four sides, this one containing a decorative garden. There were a half dozen bedrooms, a sitting room with shelves, a dining room that overlooked the inner garden, roofed porches, servants quarters, the large kitchen, and the garden which wrapped around the house. There was even a small bath house, with simple running water, though Janus insisted it was all positively rustic. Which made sense, if it was a country home that was being used by royalty to self-exile. Presumably the twin’s mother had been in an at least somewhat royal family before she married their father. Most of it was closed up, however. After Remus and Logan’s brief appearance earlier that week, Janus had aired out another couple rooms, so they would at least not be sleeping in piles of dust. In spite of his vocal cynicism, he had clearly hoped for Remus to succeed. Sadly, he had not anticipated quite the crowd he’d gotten, so they would have to share beds again. Despite the offer, Logan quietly decided that he would rather share with Patton than be an interloper by sharing with Remus and Janus. 

The prisoners had been tucked into a storage room, the ventilation coming from narrow windows under the eves protected from encroaching wildlife by pierced wooden screens. At Patton’s insistence, they’d carried in beds for them from the servants quarters, simple narrow rope-and-slats with mattresses like a dorm bed, only stuffed with rags. Only one of them was awake, the other two sleeping off their injuries, and they looked like they were struggling with some thoughts. Virgil had a little concern about leaving them alone, but they could hardly watch them all night. Well, maybe him, but he should at least try to sleep. 

In the meantime, he just had to avoid getting lost in this house. It felt like a ghost was going to come around a corner any minute. At least he’d finally got the horse smell off his hands, if not his clothes. 

Dinner consisted of what appeared to be a vegtable stirfry in a light sauce, bone in meat, mushrooms and onions stewed in a different sauce, steamed greens, and cooked grains that were virtually indistinguishable from rice. The sauces tended to be slightly spicy, though in the meat’s case the spice was mainly garlic. Unlike traveling, there were utensils on the table, knives and spoons, and even two pronged forks. Janus gave a rundown on table manners anyway, which Virgil appreciated. Better to learn now than to look foolish later. It was pretty comfortable, a vaguely asian dining style, though Roman thought the meat dish was more like coq au vin. There was a light white wine that Janus watered and Remus did not, as well as tea that tasted pretty much like black tea. It was such a pleasant, homey meal that Virgil could almost forget what had preceded it.

Almost.

There was an unspoken undercurrent of what to do to finish cleaning up the mess, though the breeze that ducked through the room smelled mostly of water, faint rumbles in the distance promising a coming storm. The night air was getting cool enough that Virgil was glad for his hoodie. 

“We shouldn’t delay leaving that long.” Janus said. “If we interrogate the prisoners, we can send them on their way with their dead; that way we won’t have to deal with the bodies, then we can leave shortly after- before they can properly muster a second response. The nearest town with a garrison is at least two days ride away- maybe one for a courier. Which they wouldn't be with two wounded and a pack of bodies- if we give them an old wagon for transport-”

“I vote that.” Roman said, gulping down his cup of wine to avoid thinking about it too much. 

“It will slow them down even further.” Janus finished. 

“It would be a pretty interesting introduction for the returning Prince.” Remus said thoughtfully. “Slaughter most of a squad, but show mercy and kindness to the dead. I mean we could wipe their minds from seeing Roman, but the rumors of his return have to start somewhere.” 

“I do not like mindwipe magic.” Patton said grimacing. 

“I have a question?” Roman raised his hand like he was in school. “I don’t know if this is the time, but- ah, titles wise, I’m a prince, Remus is a duke, and the king is an usurper? Am I a ‘rightful king’ or just ‘crown prince’?” 

“... well that’s something we’re going to have to deal with.” Janus said, eyes widening slightly. “At least he can fight, I suppose.” 

“Patton and Remus tried to tell me about how things worked here in Sanders, but I don’t have a great grip on it just yet?” Roman said sheepishly. “And I think it’d be super rude if I didn’t know anything.”

“You are absolutely correct.” Janus said as Patton tried to reassure that it wasn’t that big a deal. “I mean a little vagueness is fine, since we’re definitely going to have to tell the truth about the exile to an adjacent world.”

“Are we?” Virgil asked. “I mean, it’s a  _ little  _ weird.”

“Yes, but it  _ is  _ understandable. Most people- well, most people used to know at least one person who’s been through a Cut.” Patton explained. 

“It hasn’t been  _ that  _ long that the Cuts have been blocked.” Remus said dismissively. “And Cuts to other adjacent worlds are still open.” 

“How many adjacent worlds are there?” Roman asked, amazed at this new information.

“That’s not relevant at the moment.” Janus waved a hand. “Yes, we use ‘usurper’ when referring to him; other people will say ‘king’ so expect that; in that light, you are general discussed as ‘the crown prince’ rather than ‘rightful king’ as it’s a softer sell; as though he would simply accept you as his heir if you appeared, though most people think you’re dead, given that’s what they’ve been told.”

“They think mom, or possibly me, killed you.” Remus said helpfully. “Like, what would that even accomplish? Pick a better story, buddy.”

“I have to agree.” Janus said, picking another tidbit up from the serving platter. “But your disappearance, and presumed death was the basis for the Usurper’s actual ascension.” 

“Thanks daddy.” Mumbled Remus under his breath. The next bite Janus picked up went into Remus’s mouth before he could say more. 

“Do we have a case then?” Virgil asked. 

“Absolutely.” Patton and Janus said at the same time. Janus waved a hand at Patton, who went on. 

“As the eldest son of the previous king, Roman would have an excellent case for demanding the throne even if he hadn’t taken preliminary oaths.”

“I did what now?” 

“You took the oaths of the crown prince. It was during one of the last visits your mother brought you on. It upset some of the council, but you had displayed that you had reached the age of reason and understood the oaths you were taking.” 

“I am so fucked.” Roman said quietly, which was punctuated with a loud roll of thunder in the distance. 

“Yeah, jokes on them.” Virgil snorted. “I don’t know if Roman is past the age of reason now.” 

“Virgil, I understand what you mean,” Patton said gently. “But I also need you to understand that you have to stop saying things like that about Roman.” 

“If someone heard you and took you seriously, they could make a case for Roman’s oath being invalid, and that would tremendously undermine the legitimacy of his claim on the throne.” Janus added, very seriously. 

“Honestly, you shouldn’t say stuff like that anyway. You have a history of self depreciation that’s really kind of scary. You should believe in yourself.” Patton patted Virgil’s hand where it lay on the table. 

“Uhm, I’d like to know the promises eight year old me apparently gave to an entire country? Because I’ve always been pretty good at keeping my promises, but this one seems like a really big one?” 

Janus stared for a moment, then looked at Remus. “He’s serious. What happened? This is a little more than just ‘boy that sure was a long time ago and Florida changes ineffective rulers every four years’.” 

“Hey, you shut me up about daddy dearest.” Remus snorted. 

“I got convinced I’d made Sanders, and Remus up.” Roman said simply. “I remember some of it, but it’s like a dream you had a long time ago. The more I talk to Remus the clearer it gets, but …” he sighed. “I may never be who or what you need me to be, now, and I’m sorry.” 

“Nooo!” Patton shook his head. “Roman, don’t say that. I’ve known you for a long time, and I knew you before, even if you didn’t recognise me when you met me again; you are  _ absolutely  _ good enough. You are smart, and you are kind and you are dedicated, and I can’t think of better traits for a future king. If we have to remind you of a few things, that’s okay.” 

Thunder rolled in the distance again, and Roman smiled weakly. 

Once the storm edge had hit them, dinner was adjourned. The dishes were rinsed and the leftovers brought to the prisoners in covered dishes so that if they woke they’d have something to eat. This was largely at Patton’s insistence, but Janus barely put up a token protest, taking the opportunity to take another look at the wounded. It made Roman feel better, that for all the callous if practical suggestions there was still a level of human decency present. Frankly he could use the reassuring. It was just a thunderstorm, full of sheeting rain and steady wind, but with everything else, the sound set him on edge. 

The rooms that were in a good state to sleep in weren’t far from each other, and Remus had cheerfully given Logan a goodnight kiss before disappearing into one with Janus. Roman paused at the doorway to his room, and passed the lantern he was carrying to Virgil, prompting an entire conversation in eye-based micro expressions, before taking a few steps to close the distance between them. 

“Hey.” Roman said gently, and Logan looked up blinking as though he had been deep in thought. “I wanted to-” well there were several things he wanted to do; even just with Logan, but most of them weren’t really applicable to the situation. “Wish you pleasant dreams.” he finished weakly. Logan raised his eyebrows, but there was a faint smile. 

“Unless you have greater levels of unconscious magic than we realise, your well wishes will have little to do with it.” he glanced in the door behind him. “At least this room features double beds; Patton strikes me as the kind of person who spreads out when he sleeps.” 

Thunder rumbled, a deep sound that seemed to surround them, followed with a flash of lightning that cast shadows up and down the hallway. Roman cleared his throat.

"If you wanted to; you could... come in with us?"

Logan's eyebrows if anything got higher in surprise.

“Just for sleeping company.” Roman added. 

“No, I am merely surprised because you mentioned Virgil had difficulty sleeping with people he didn’t know well around.” 

“That’s true, but thunderstorms put the little weirdo to sleep, so…” Roman gave a little smile and stuck out his hand to Logan. Logan stared at it for a long moment, then took it like a handshake. Roman’s smile got broader at the goodnight handshake, then raised Logan’s hand up to his lips. Logan almost jerked away- he was too used to Remus where it was anyone’s guess what would follow- but Roman just rested soft dry lips against Logan’s skin for a long moment, before raising his eyes. 

“Are you flirting?” Logan asked. 

Roman looked a bit confused. 

“Yes?” he answered after a long moment. He thought that had been clear. Logan looked at him measuring then leaned past their hands and kissed Roman on the corner of his mouth- just enough that it might have been a cheek kiss that missed. 

“I appreciate the offer of cosleeping.” he said. “I have to admit that I’d gotten used to it; and sleeping without someone had thrown off my circadian rhythms. Providing Virgil doesn’t object and the bed is large enough, I would like that.” 

When they entered the room, Virgil was sitting on the edge of the bed, but the lantern was extinguished, leaving only the dimmest light creeping in the diamond paned windows. His posture indicated surprise. 

“I did not expect him to agree.” the sentence was broken up by a yawn. 

“Budge over, bedhead.” Roman said. “I don’t want to have to move you because the rain sounds put you to sleep.” 

At Roman’s prompting, Virgil ended up pressed against the wall, with Logan on the outside edge of what was probably a queen mattress, with Roman between them. There were airy drapes of bug netting- thankfully dust free- surrounding the bed. As Logan’s eyes finished adjusting to the dim light, he could hear Virgil’s breathing even out. He set his glasses on the bedside table next to the extinguished lantern, and drew the gauzy canopy closed. 

“You were not exaggerating.” he murmured

“Yeah.” Roman was lying flat on his back, hands tucked up behind his head. Virgil was curled on his side, back pressed to the wall behind him. “I wish ambient sound generators worked like this. He could use the sleep.” He took a few deep breaths, the measured kind people were taught to take to help them sleep. The sound of their breathing made Logan feel better. Honestly if he let it, it irritated him. He had slept alone since he was a child, rarely even sharing a bed with his occasional lovers- something that had irritated at least one. But Remus had made it seem so natural, that his own bed with the memory foam mattress and blankets just the right level of fluffiness had seemed wrong and too large, lacking something. Logan had woken up with his blankets and pillows bundled in an awkward roll, his arms around it. He wondered what the difference was, as he felt himself starting to drift off to the sounds of the other men’s breathing. As his eyes closed, he felt a phantom wave of warm break over his hands, and the darkness behind his eyelids turned crimson. He jerked upright. 

“Mnne?” Roman mumbled. Logan rubbed at his hands, finding them dry and clean and sighed, lying back down. 

“Exactly what I was concerned for.” He answered, and found an arm wrapping around him, pulling him up against Roman’s chest. 

“Sooosh.” Mumbled the redhead. “It’s okay. We got each other.” Then he drifted off again, still holding Logan. Logan wondered if he realised who he was holding. But it was comforting.

In the morning the world seemed polished from the rain the night before. Leafs lay scattered on the garden paths, the pale pebbles shining in their disarranged ripples. The door to Janus’s room remained resolutely shut, so Patton, who had woken early took over the kitchen, raiding the supplies to make a breakfast that tempted the other three awake. Feeling oddly refreshed and grounded, Roman remembered a low walled paddock outside the villa complex and got Logan to help him move the horses so they could graze. He spent a long time watching them settle into the overgrown pasture. 

“I dream about Sanders a lot.” he admitted to Logan, who hadn’t said anything. “I always thought I just had a big imagination, that there was this whole, well designed consistent world in my mind. Sometimes I would start trying to write it down, turn it into a story, but I always…” he squinted into the morning light, “Well, centaur shit. Did Mr Foster nudge my mind away from that? That’s not cool. Anyway the point is I think I may remember more than I think I do.”

“I think that’s fairly likely. Childhood memories are often pushed aside, but the actual memories remain, and can frequently be unlocked with a scent or a visual prompt. Given that, I think you’re likely to have many ‘deja vu’ like moments in the next few weeks.” 

“Thanks.” Roman gave a shy little smile at Logan, before turning away, a blush starting to form. “So I hear Sanders has coffee! Let’s go see how that works. Do you think it’s more of a french-press situation or one of those fancy trickle beakers?” 

Sadly when they arrived Janus and Remus had emerged, and Remus was busy showing Virgil how he made coffee. Since Logan had never caught it before, he was fascinated, and a little appalled. He couldn’t argue with the results however, he’d come to like the thick, sweet spiced brew. 

“The sooner we interrogate the prisoners, the sooner we can move on to everything else.” Janus said, tearing apart one of the pancakes Patton had made into strips and eating it. “But before that, Roman at least should get dressed properly. It will help cement your position in their minds.”

“We’ve pretty much come to the conclusion the best thing to do is to let them go. They go, even if they just go straight to their superiors and report it the rumor that Ro’s returned will start circulating. It’ll prompt wild ass rumors, but the idea will be in people’s heads; and that’ll help them actually accept it when we make our move.” Remus took a gulp of his coffee. 

“Mercy for people who might not have had a choice.” Roman offered.

“No mercy for the fuckers who try to scrape tattoos of people’s skin.” returned Remus.

“Or Dorian. That bastard is going down when we get our hands on him.” Roman turned to Patton. “Just to like, line things up, Mr.- I mean Patton, the Dorian who was working with you on the portal, did he have a tattoo with a moth?” 

“Yes, right here-” he spread his hand out on his collar bone. “Never closed his shirts.” 

“Right, same Dorian, he’s going down.” The twins nodded at each other. “But no war crimes even on people we don’t like.” Roman added. 

“Just a little war crime?” Remus asked. 

“No.” 

“Tiniest little bit?” He held up his fingers so they were barely not touching.

“No! Ask your friend, he’s sensible.” 

Janus looked at Roman blandly. “They took a steel brush to my face. I’m for it.” 

Roman looked conflicted and Virgil said 

“Remus can have a little torture. As a treat.” 

“Don’t undermine me!” Roman said, but he was laughing.

“Of course not,  _ your highness _ .” Virgil rolled his eyes and smirked at Roman, who turned bright red and stuffed a pancake in his mouth. 

“So this is alright?” Roman asked, pulling his hair back. He’d changed into the garb he’d brought with him, not his favorite gold and white brocade, but a more practical one in dark crimson. He’d been experimenting and there was couching in an interlace pattern over the shoulders in goldenrod cord. Remus was back in his dark leather, and clucked thoughtfully, walking around Roman in a slow circle. 

“It’s a little flimsy, but I think it’ll work until we can get you outfitted. I mean what even is this fabric?” 

“Uh, cotton I think. Broadcloth.” 

“And your shirt is super plain, there isn’t even smocking on it.” 

“No one sees it.” Roman said defensively, closing the hooks and eyes at the front of his doublet. 

“You see it! And other people if you’re lucky.” Remus gave him a wink. 

“So, uh. Speaking of.” Roman raised his eyebrows. “Are you showing off on purpose, or do you often get chewed on like raw meat?” 

Remus raised a hand to the side of his neck, pressing lightly on a bruise there.

“Like I said, if you’re lucky.” He grinned, but adjusted the collar of his shirt so it was less visible. 

“I know you guys talked about it and all, but be nice to Logan.” 

“I could say the same thing to you;” Remus retorted, and laughed as Roman blushed. “But I assure you, I plan on being as nice to Logan as he’ll let me.” 

Brilliantly red in a way that clashed with his clothing, Roman left. 

In comparison to Remus’s ribbing, Janus gave him a measuring up and down and nodded. Instead of the simple blouse and pants Janus had been wearing since they showed up, he had changed into something that looked more like a dark gray tunic or jacket that fastened down the front with fancy frogging. It ended just below his knees, though the frogging stopped being fastened at his hips. Instead of being loose, his hair was gathered back in a thick braid that ended just below his waist. It somehow managed to make his hair look longer, now that it was no longer a shifting cape. He’d removed the outer bandage on his face, leaving just small butterfly bandages holding the long cut shut. 

“You clean up well.” Roman said without thinking. 

“I could say the same for you. You do look the part of the prince. Very clean cut.”

“Remus was making fun of it.” He adjusted his cuffs. 

“Well, it does look like you made it yourself.” Janus tipped his head, the corner of his mouth going up a bit. 

“I did.” Roman said a little defensively as Remus joined them. 

“That explains it.” Turning he beckoned them to follow him. “Before we go in; we didn’t find any written orders, which isn’t surprising; there was a slate compact, which means they could have gotten their orders sent and erased them; but both the squad sergeant and his corporal were killed, and they were the ones most likely to have seen them. We should be able to get a good feel for the political climate but I don’t expect anything terribly  _ useful _ .” 

Patton waited for them outside the storage room they’d put the prisoners in. The top of his hair was pulled back into a braid, keeping it out of his face, though the lower half was loose around his shoulders. It was still a shock to see him clean shaven, since he looked so much younger. The tunic coat he wore looked like it had been stored for a long time, creases marking the dove-gray fabric, slightly less visible as it hung open revealing the sky blue shirt beneath it. Adding to the impression it hadn’t been worn recently, the upper sleeves looked a little tight, so it was possible that he just couldn’t fasten the buttons. His coat had a hood, but was plainly the same sort of style as Janus’s. 

“You look great, Roman.” he said cheerfully. “I brought them some breakfast while you were changing; they’re all awake, so that’s good.” 

“What kind of mood are they in?” Janus asked. 

“Confused.” 

“Excellent.” 

As they entered the room, the soldiers looked up. The one who had surrendered had pulled one of the cots over against the wall, and the other two were propped on it, using the wall to keep them upright. Both looked pale under their tans, though one was at least able to hold the bowl up to their mouth, while the unwounded soldier was helping the broken armed one drink the broth they’d been given. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Roman adjusted his sword belt and stepped forward before anyone else could say anything. 

“Good morning gentlepeople.” Roman said cheerfully, raising a hand in greeting. “I am sorry for interrupting your meal time; I can tell it may be a greater chore than usual. I am sorry about that; but I’m sure you can understand extenuating circumstances.” He smiled pleasantly. 

“Didn’t expect to wake up when I passed out.” Admitted one of the wounded. Lowering the bowl to their lap, they sighed. “Gonna admit, I’m not one hundred percent sold this isn’t the afterlife.” 

“I’m sure you’re entitled to something much better than this in the beyond.” Roman assured them. “I think a very important next step is introducing ourselves so we can have a proper conversation. I am hoping we can proceed without any kind of exterior pressure.” When he said that, their eyes flicked back to look past him where the other three were standing. Giving a small nod, Roman smiled at them again. “My name is Roman, and time was, I took an oath to the crown of Sanders. I do not intend to break it; While it’s a mouthful, I am Crown Prince Roman of Sanders. You are soldiers that march under the flag of that country. I require your names, ranks and pronouns.” Roman was so glad that Virgil wasn’t here to listen to this; it sounded  _ right _ , but that wouldn’t stop his friend from taking the mickey out of him something fierce. 

If anything the prisoners got paler, and stiffened a little bit. 

“It’s different hearing him say it.” mumbled the one with splinted arms. “I’m Veert. I’m a him. Don’t really have a rank. Uh sir?” 

“Saffron Leon. I do the they thing.” They raised their off hand. “Also unranked, your highness.”

The unwounded one, who’d surrendered, turned around and stood up before answering. 

“I’m not sure if I’m willing to just… accept your claims. But my name is Auber Tane, and I am the under corporal of squad Seventeen; the Leafpoints. I appreciate the humane conditions and medical treatment; but I don’t think we should provide any more information.” 

“But if he’s the lost prince-” Veert protested. 

“Yeah- ‘if’,” Auber frowned. 

“Look, you’re the one who actually  _ surrendered _ .” Saffron said. “Wouldn’t it be better to have surrendered to a Prince, than just anyone?” 

“I’m not going to accept a wild claim just to save my ego!” 

Roman took a step back, closer to his brother and Janus. 

“Should we stop them?” Roman asked in an undertone. 

“Certainly not.” Janus told him. “Keep going, it seems to be working.” There was a glint in his eye that made Roman think some sort of magic was going on, but he stepped forward again, and clapped his hands together gently, like a teacher calling a class to order, which broke through their hissed discussion. 

“I’m not so much looking for you to give me information as I’m looking for I don’t know, clarification? You can keep eating if you’d like, Saffron was it? You looked kind of wrung out last night.”

“You almost took my hand off. Your highness.” they did pick up the bowl. 

“You were trying to gut me, so it’s only fair.” The hairs on the back of Roman’s neck stood up as he thought about it, and he gritted his teeth into a hopefully not-to-seasick grin. “See, we understand that your squad was here to find my brother. So why now?  _ Here,  _ I can understand, with his companion rusticating in our mother’s country home, but  _ now  _ is something of a mystery.” 

“Mystery to me too.” Veert grumbled, and was shut up as Auber shoved a pancake into his mouth.

“What do we gain from telling them?”

“What do you gain from  _ not  _ telling us?” Roman countered. “I’m afraid I’m the carrot here, fellows. You won’t like the stick.” As if to punctuate what he meant, Remus gave a sharp chuckle that was almost a cackle. 

“It’s not like  _ we  _ were given a lot of information. Just that there was a lead on the mad Duke for the first time in a year.” Saffron volunteered, sipping the broth again. “Don’t know why they needed a full squad to ask questions, but it was a nice enough ride until we got here.”

“Stop it!” Auber growled.

“What!? I’m not going to pretend I owe loyalty to dead men. Eden was an asshole and Midra was a sick sadist. Midra was a fucking punishment on our squad we didn’t deserve, and you know it. Midra was the corporal.” they explained. “He picked Auber for his under corporal, but I can’t help feel he was targeting Auber to- you know.” raising their sword arm they made a little motion Roman didn’t quite understand. But the arm was moving stiffly so maybe it wasn’t as fluid as it could be. “ _ Groom _ . For reasons. He’d been demoted. Always salty about that. But before he came to our squad he'd volunteered to pick up Marked Mages.” Saffron made a face. “Not exactly an endorsement for kindness if you don’t mind my saying, your Highness.” 

“I appreciate the honesty.” Roman nodded. 

“I just can’t put it together.” they admitted. “A squad’s too much for asking questions, even for a scrubbed Mage, but not enough to capture the mad Duke, if reports could be believed. Which at this point I’m inclined to.”

Veert whimpered in agreement, having been one of the men facing Remus the night before. Remus made a pleased hum. 

“I heard something but uhm.” He shifted in place. “You’re not going to let him hurt us, sir?” He looked at Roman, then over his shoulder at Remus. 

“I have no intentions to see you hurt at this point.” Roman said honestly. 

“I heard Eden and Midra. The scrubbed mage was supposed to be brought back or killed. Either was fine. If he was killed he was supposed to be made an example of here in case the Duke showed up after we left.” 

“It’s not surprising Remus, hush.” Murmured Janus, over a quiet growl. 

“Hrm. It does sound like they didn’t actually expect to find Remus here.“ Roman said thoughtfully. 

“No sir.” Saffron said. “But I’ve been in the army for a few years, and we’re always supposed to be on lookout for the Duke.” 

“I have a reputation.” Remus said, cheerfully manic. 

“A well earned one.” Auber spat, then turned his back on them, focusing instead on the splints on Veert’s arms.

“That’s the best kind.” 

“Still, you must have been quartered nearby to arrive in such good time.”

“We’re a patrol.” Saffron explained. “Until we get orders we go around a circuit of towns and back up the appointed lawmen and their deputies.” 

“You don’t mean to suggest that your job, as soldiers isn’t to protect the people; but rather to enforce the will of the government on its citizens?” Roman asked, voice light. 

All three of the captured soldiers were silent. 

“We…” Veert said weakly. “We also take down dangerous wildlife, like kaimen, bears and water horses. If the towns can’t handle it.” 

“I see.”

“The king has made some changes.” Auber said. “They’re for the best, I’m sure, but people don’t like change.” 

“That is true, change isn’t something people take too well.” Roman agreed. “So- what kind of improvements have happened?”

“What?”

“You said he made changes. What has he done?” Roman smiled blandly. “For the country.” 

“Well, the army’s gotten bigger. So I have a job.” Auber said slowly. “The council and king are regulating bigger magics so the Marked Mages can’t do whatever they want.” Roman nodded encouragingly. “They’re… something is going on with the merchants and nobles that they say is going to bring more money into the country, but I… I don’t understand it.” 

“That’s okay. Do you trust these merchants and their investors to do what’s right for everyone?” 

There was a conspicuous silence. 

“So can you tell me more about what the Marked Mages did to need that kind of regulation?” 

“Shouldn’t your mages know?” Saffron asked, tracing their fingers on the light bandage on their arm. 

“Well, they’re coming at it from a different angle, aren’t they? Tell me, Mx. Leon-” Saffron looked confused by the title, but Roman went on. “What did you do before you were a soldier?” 

“My parents were tailors. I had five siblings? Way too many for me to go into the family business.”

“I was a farmer.” Veert volunteered. “My mother thought I was going to get in trouble with a local girl. This way I can send money home. It beats joining the Impro Corps.” he paused. “Of course I probably wouldn’t have broken both arms in the Corps though. I mean at once.” 

Saffron snorted, and rolled their eyes. ”Yeah, I’m  _ still  _ sure the  _ girl  _ was the one causeing the trouble.” 

“The Impro Corps has gotten bigger too.” Auber added in, latching onto that. “So the roads and the bridges and dams have been getting maintenance.” 

“And the taxes have been raised to cover that.” Janus murmured. “Though I think the real stunner of an idea is the opportunity that is being given to prisoners to be put in the Corps instead of jail service. For a longer period of course. I’d say more than half the Corps is made up of prisoners. So practical. Not at all like slavery.” 

“There are squads that supervise the prisoner strings so they don’t try to escape. They cycle through. Mostly mounted squads like us; though the foot soldiers do it too.” 

“Hmnn.” Roman nodded thoughtfully. “My point was that you are, shall we say, a cross section of more common people. People whose opinions I should hear.” 

“Is he for real?” Auber demanded, staring at the other men in the room. Patton grinned. 

“He’s a real sweetheart.” 

“What about lesser magics, Witches and the like?” Roman asked. “Are they getting regulated the same way the Marked Mages are?” 

Janus looked back and forth between Remus and Patton, a plain ‘did you tell him about this’ look, but they looked as surprised by the question as he was. 

“Well not the same way. If you wanna do more than just charms on your own things, you have to register and pay a fee for that; like guild dues, you know? If they move they have to inform the watch. Like Marked Mages, sort of, only on a smaller scale.” 

“Thank you; you’ve really given me some insight on the state of things.” Roman smiled pleasantly. “Do any of you know where you were headed to next, after your…” he paused searching for a word. “Let’s call it a visit, here?” 

“Don’t tell him.” Auber said stubbornly. “It’s not like gossiping about shit. That’s military information. I don’t care how nice he is; I don’t care how much he looks like he’s the crown prince. They’re still with the rebellion.” He glared at the other two. “I don’t know if you remember but you gave an oath to the king when you joined the army. Which means we don’t give information to the enemy.” 

“Am I your enemy?” Roman said mildly. “That’s disappointing, Mr. Tane, not going to lie.” the soldier stiffened, as if in sudden fear. “I can understand. A great man once said something about rebellions. ‘A rebellion is always legal in the first person, such as "our rebellion." It is only in the third person - "their rebellion" - that it is illegal.’ So to you, I’m a criminal, and you’re used to fighting criminals.” Roman shifted a bit, then went on. “The idea of a king elected by a council isn’t a bad thought, you know; except who chooses the council? Are they people like you? Or are they people with more power than responsibility?” 

“You wouldn’t be any better. You just got born into it.” 

“You got me there.” Roman crouched down, so he was level with him, instead of standing over them. “But I have spent more of my life living like you do than living like a noble. And I’m willing to learn. And, you know, you swore an oath to the king, but I swore an oath to the crown and the people.”

Resolutely Auber looked away. 

“I’m a prisoner. I surrendered because you would have killed me. I refuse to like you.” 

“That’s fair.” Roman looked at the other two. 

“Well, Auber has a point; but I was doing my best to gut you, so fair.” Saffron leaned up against the wall, as if worn out from the conversation. “I’m alive, and I have to admit I didn’t expect that when I passed out.” 

“What are you going to do with us?” Veert blurted out. Roman stood up, and looked at the others. Remus sighed, and stepped up beside Roman. 

“My brother wants to let you go.” he said, as though this was a disappointment. “We have an old cart, and we’ve put your dead squad members on it. Even got a tarp with a preservation charm on it so they don’t get stinky and slimy. We keep your weapons and most of the horses as a rightful prize for having beaten you. You go wherever it is you were going to go next.” He gave a feral little grin. “How you explain what happened is up to you.” 

“However.” Patton spoke up. “We will be putting a compel rune on you.”

“What for?” Saffron asked, sitting up a bit. Patton spread his hands soothingly. 

“Very limited, don't worry. We simply want to be sure you will tell the truth about the encounter here. We don’t want you spreading the rumor that the rebellion attacked a squad unprovoked after all.” 

“What do you call it?” 

Janus hissed between his teeth. It was a very warning sound.

Veert tried to move his spinted arms and whimpered. Auber put his hands gently on the younger soldier soothingly. 

“Okay, fine. That’s it? You’re just going to let us go? Why?!”

“How should I put this?” Janus asked switching places with Roman, Roman and Remus retreating to flank the door as the mages approached the prisoners. He pressed his palms together thoughtfully. “ _ You aren’t important _ .” 

“I think it all went quite well.” Patton said cheerfully, bringing a tray of drinks to a somewhat tattered gazebo structure in the overgrown garden, where everyone had gathered. “You made an impression on them, Roman, and a positive one!” 

“I feel weird.” Roman mumbled, letting his face press to the table. 

“You did a great job sounding like a leader. Honestly I didn’t expect that.” Remus was looking quite relaxed, kicked back on a couch compared to Roman’s cross legged posture next to the low table in front of it. “You can fight  _ and  _ you can be all inspiring and diplomatic? We fucking lucked out. I was terrified that you were going to be a useless blank idiot.” 

“Fake it ‘till you make it I guess.” Virgil patted Roman’s back. He was sitting on the table, instrument held loosely in his lap. “I can’t wait to see you playing Prince, Ro. Sounds like fun.” 

Roman groaned. 

“What would have happened if they’d flipped?! Said ‘okay, I’m going to follow you now’?” He demanded, lifting his face. 

“We would have brought them with us.” Patton said. “When I left the revolution could always use more people, and I doubt that’s changed.” 

“We need people among the people.” Janus corrected. He was sprawled out next to Remus taking up more than his share of the couch. “We need support from the people of Sanders, so they don’t hate Roman when we overthrow the usurper. Now he’s making it easy, with the increased taxes and military presence, but he’s also actually making improvements with some of it; so there are going to be people who just resist any change.” 

“People are people.” Virgil shook his head, idly fingering a few chords. “So when do we head out?” 

“Tomorrow. There’s no point in sticking around. I know where the current hub of the revolution is.” Janus stretched idly, turning his face to rest against Remus’s shoulder. “With Roman we’re going to be able to move towards a goal; no more stalling back and forth.” 

Roman groaned and folded in on himself again. 

“Are you alright, Roman? You seem distressed.” Logan asked. Roman took another deep breath, rising and falling under Virgil’s hand which was back on him, a soothing familiar touch. 

“I’ll… get used to it.” He sat up straight, and smiled. “Wishes may come true after all, but anyone who knows their stories knows that there’s always complications.” 

“I feel better now that there isn’t a pack of dead bodies in the house.” Virgil admitted. 

“Dead bodies are a lot easier to deal with than live ones.” Remus grinned. 

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” 


	6. .Book Six.

Virgil had not expected  _ cities  _ when he pictured a fantasy world. He wasn’t sure why his brain had defaulted to at most a large town huddled against a fortress, at most, but this was definitely a city. There wasn’t even a castle, it was just a lot of commerce and people, shouting, going back and forth about their business. Honestly, it was nothing like anything he expected. Janus had idly told him that this wasn’t even the largest city in Southern Sanders. 

Smithport was a port, with a broad harbor shielded by a natural spit of land on one side, and a sea wall on the other, featuring both docking for trade ships near low warehouses, and a small shipyard that both built and repaired them. It was a surprising clean city too, smelling mostly of the saltwater stink of low tide, and not like garbage. Honestly, he’d been in modern cities that smelled worse. It had been a long ride interspersed with camping and the smaller towns Virgil had pictured, so the civilization was welcome. The buildings were made of stone and wood, the wood brightly painted to help it resist the weather, often with symbols painted on, that Patton or Janus would point out as for good luck, health and prosperity for the most part, though symbols for protection were also common. He was starting to see patterns in the sigils and the colors used. It was magic, so it didn’t make  _ sense _ , but it wasn’t too much different from reading musical notes. 

They’d come to rest in a rather large inn that rose up five stories; quite a lot without an elevator in Virgil’s opinion, though there was a lighthouse at the end of the sea wall that was definitely taller than that. At least twice. The inn wasn’t even the only building that tall in the city. So it didn’t stand out, which was good, as it seemed to be a central hub for the revolution. The owners of the Lavender Wreath were a tall black woman and her husband, a skinny stick of a guy with a shock of blond hair and a passion for cooking. Before their marriage Wisteria had been a minor noble, and had many contacts in the court still. It wasn’t a bad cover, with people moving in and out of the trade city constantly and needing a place to stay. 

In the last two weeks they’d been there, people had come to them, meeting with Remus and then; Roman. As Janus had explained on the trip, there were a large group of people who thought that Remus was dead and or gone for good, so first he had to be established as genuine before he could vouch for Roman. Roman seemed to be making a good impression at least. 

For the most part, Virgil stayed beside his friend, for emotional support. He got the impression that several of the higher ups of the revolution who had passed through thought he was some sort of foreign mage. Virgil was fine with them thinking that, frankly. People came in a large range of colors in Sanders, apparently, though the majority were darker than he was. What had taken getting used to was the fucking furries. The first time he’d seen one of the people that were called ‘beast hearted’ his eyes had almost popped out of his head. If he hadn’t been so used to avoiding notice it probably would have been very embarrassing. They came in all kinds of animals- mostly mammals, though there were the occasional bird person, and he’d met a very nice family of frogs. Which was not a sentence he’d ever expected to say. He was still getting used to it, even if they were a minority. 

They’d been given a suite of rooms on the fourth floor, the fifth floor rather unfortunately being reserved for employees. The fourth floor was undesireable for passers through and had a few long term tenants such as themselves. Roman and Remus had left the inn that afternoon, something about watching or participating in some sort of tournament down by the docks. Remus swore it was important, frankly, he might have just needed to let off steam. It was probably more of getting Roman’s presence known; and he had mentioned that there would be a lot of Beast Hearted there. Better that they get twin time. 

Virgil tended to stay in the rooms when he wasn’t accompanied with someone else, sitting in the window and watching people pass below. Today he was also tinkering with a lap harp that someone had left at the Wreath when they’d skipped out on the bill, and Wisteria had said he could have if he learned to play it. He wasn’t going to keep it; the last thing he needed was more to carry when they had to move on, but it was something to keep his brain busy. Every now and again someone would look up at the open window, but he was mainly in shadow, so he could people-watch to his heart’s content. 

Common people he’d discovered didn’t dress quite the same way as they’d all been bundled into. There were lots of the jacket-doublet things; but there were also vests that would either pull over the top or fasten up the front. There were the blouse shirts like the one he was wearing, and then there were more tunic-like ones worn untucked with a sash and belt and absolutely thick with embroidery around the neck and cuffs. Both kinds were worn with skirts or pants by people of either gender. There were even wrapped shirts and dresses. Women seemed to wear whatever they pleased, though skirt wearing was the majority. Given his vantage point, he thought some of the people wearing dresses were men as well- or it could be the longer, more robe-like doublets, like Patton and Janus wore. He had one, actually. He’d been prepared to just wear the faded and patched lazy doublet and pants that were the first things that Roman had made; but Janus had offered a much more respectable looking hand-me-down, thigh length, loose instead of fitted with an attached hood. The mage must have swum in it, since it was loose on Virgil, but it was comfortable. It reminded him of a hoodie, and he’d sewn pockets into it after Janus had assured him it was his now. 

That was the hardest thing to adjust to about fashions here, no pockets. Everyone wore belts with pouches on them instead. Some people had aprons with patch pockets, but inline pockets were apparently something that they’d missed. Virgil knew enough about sewing to fix that on his own clothes, and Logan had gone on a rant that lasted several minutes about the fact that adding pockets hadn’t even  _ occurred  _ to him. It had been adorable, and since he had the time, Virgil had taught him how to sew, since Logan didn’t have any more ability than it took to sew on a button. 

Behind him the door opened quietly, making him glance back. Logan shut the door behind himself. Getting a chair, he moved it closer to the window, where Virgil was perched on the wide ledge, a less precarious looking perch than it looked. Virgil had thought Logan had gone to watch the twins fight, if purely for aesthetic appreciation. They were very good when they moved. Virgil focused on the strings of the lap harp, throwing that thought away as far as he could. 

Logan was in a strange position; unlike Virgil who was expressly there to watch Roman’s back and to bounce ideas and thoughts off of, he had come almost on a whim. He didn’t even appear to be a mage, not being interested in the explanations of magic beyond the most cursory. While he ravenously read any historical or legal documents about Sanders that came his way- he said that seeking knowledge was the best way to deal with an unusual situation- Patton had taken him around and introduced him to town officials as a historian. Logan had spent several days tracking the evolution of the town charter from small port town to the trade center it was now. Logan had found the slow changes of laws fascinating, and it gave him a better grounding on how this new world worked- It was hard to appear to be a scholar when you didn’t know anything about how the world worked. Mostly his place in the group was supplying critical thinking when someone got over excited- and being outrageously flirted with. 

If Virgil was a foreign mage, Logan was an advising concubine. Not the most dignified of presumed professions. But at least that kept people from approaching him. And to be fair, he was getting kissed. A lot. Somewhere between the villa and Smithport, Roman had gone from kissing his hand, to his cheek, to his lips, and Logan could track the progression and was still not really sure how it happened. Remus was fine with this, not easing off  _ his  _ flirtations in the least. Which led to competitive flirting, which might have been fine, if they both hadn’t been targeting Logan. Nothing in Logan’s life had prepared him for being in this position. He had assumed that Remus was just a naturally flirtatious person, and he’d been a convenient target for contact after a long period without it. However, even with a larger scope of people, Remus stuck to flirting with him, Janus, and an occasional sniping joke at Virgil- and the last seemed much more like he was trying to get a rise out of him than trying to get a kiss out of him. 

Which was another thing. Logan sat back and let his head rest against the wall, listening to Virgil play with the lap harp. Even given that Remus had said and Janus had confirmed they were in a polyamrous relationship with limited openness, Logan still expected some level of well, jealousy at the attention Remus was showing him. There was none. If Remus pulled Logan in for a kiss while Janus was in his lap, Janus just leaned back a bit to give them room. In fact, if Logan wasn’t mistaken, Janus had started flirting gently at him as well. He’d even kissed Logan’s cheek after they’d had an actual conversation about polyamory, where Logan asked an embarrassingly large amount of questions. No information learned was wasted, and they- Janus especially come to think- had been surprisingly nice about it. He sighed.

“You okay there, L?” Virgil asked. 

“I am… well, I suppose. Perhaps overwhelmed at the moment.” He said, not opening his eyes. Virgil gave a snort in agreement. “I was directed to an actual library today. Well, it was also a bookshop, but it was a library.”

“Huh. Disney got right, who’d have guessed.” Virgil gave a low chuckle, and Logan turned to look at him. 

Virgil’s company was restful, compared to the twins. It wasn’t even the lack of flirtation, just that he was quiet and thoughtful, even if it was parsed with sarcasm. The problem was that Virgil was beautiful as well. His dark hair, still liberally striped with purple at the ends, and skin that was practically luminous against the darker gray of his shirt, and there was something grounding about the doc martin boots he was still wearing. Wearing gray made his eyes stand out more striking, even when he looked badly rested. Which was the  _ last  _ thing Logan needed to be thinking about. Things were complicated enough. He had no desire to turn his life from a fantasy novel into a dating sim. Logan feared however it was already too late. The worst thing about it was he didn’t even seem to be the protagonist, just the main love interest. 

If  _ Patton  _ started showing an interest in him, he might scream. Well… scream might not be the right word. 

“Why is Patton so … stacked?” is what came out of his mouth. Ah, this was just short of a nightmare scenario, delightful. 

“I always assumed he was hauling bags of flour around, but my best guess now is just genetics.” Virgil said after a pause. He’d treated it like any other question, not an admission of any kind. As Logan had said, restful.

“He has no need to be that…” Logan waved his hands. 

“Well neither do you.” Virgil retorted. “Hot calling the cutie phat.”

“I think the lack of body fat is the issue here.” Logan touched his stomach. There was nothing like the equipment he was used to to continue his fitness routine, and the vain part of his mind was concerned he was losing tone.

“Okay, that one’s on me, that’s an old term. I think it’s san acronym for ‘pretty hot and tempting’” 

“That seems like an invitation to miscommunication.” Logan said, turning it over in his head. “One would think an acronym that didn’t mimic an existing word would be preferable.” 

Virgil gave a snort of amusement. “No argument here. Some of the shit people parade around as pet names or compliments just don’t make sense.” He stared at the window. “What I mean is at least you fit in; I swear it’s like living in a house of underwear models.” 

Logan was glad he wasn’t drinking anything because he would have choked. He nearly managed anyway. 

Virgil took the opportunity to list his thoughts out. 

“Lean and muscular, lean and slightly more muscular,  _ thick  _ and muscular, that insane core muscle thing you have going on- don’t laugh you were doing situps while hanging by your knees, I fucking saw you that is compeltely unnessecey!” 

“I’m used to resistance training.” Logan mumbled, somewhat embarrassed since he had thought he’d been by himself. “I was just trying to find an alternative. I have… a lot of time on my hands to occupy.” 

“Yeah, I get that. But you look like Brendan Fraiser in George of the Jungle cast in dark chocolate and that’s just unfair.”

“That’s remarkably specific.” Logan choked out.

“There’s only so long I can throw knives at the wall and translate emo songs to local instruments. I think thoughts.” He huffed, hiding under his bangs and adjusting the instrument in his lap. “

“Now I’m just curious about how you’d describe Janus. I will cede the point that I have a place on the muscular lineup. It would be foolish not to, given that I work at it.” He didn’t make eye contact with Virgil, instead staring at a spot on the floor across the room. 

“Dude, you’ve spent more time close to him than me-” Virgil protested. “You have to have noticed his skinny is a lie. It’s all muscle. Smooth and bronze and I am so fucking gay.” He let his head drop back with a bang on the window frame. 

“Like a dancer.” Logan provided. He had noticed. One of the nights Remus had pulled him into bed with them, Remus had risen earlier, leaving Logan to wake feeling like he was being cuddled by a small but persistent anaconda. Janus had denied he was a cuddler, but the secret was out. “As long as we’re having this conversation- have you noticed his other tattoo?”

Given the expanse of scar tissue that covered the left side of Janus’s face, and the pattern of tattooed scales that trailed down the front of his neck, the facial tattoo he had been Marked with before must have been quite expansive. It had been scrubbed from him; removing the catalyst that he would have used to cast magic. 

They had met other ‘Scrubbed’ Mages, ones whose tattoos hadn’t been in such obvious places, but had the same kind of scars where they’d previously been. One had even had a patch on her sternum removed in a whole piece, lifting the ink like a trophy. It was only quick action by a good samaritan after she’d been abandoned that saved her life. She still wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or not. Patton’s extensive tattoos were in fact an exception not a rule. Most of the Marked Mages they’d met had only one or two tattoos. Once they were ‘Scrubbed’ it disrupted the connection they used- the pain that resulted from using magic once the Marks had been removed kept them from using it. Janus however continued; using the same motions he would have before. Most people assumed it was his heterochromia, the same way Remus’s red eyes enabled him to force magic through with will and pure spite. 

At first Logan assumed the same thing, but Janus had a second tattoo. When asked, he pointed out that he used illusion magic, and had hidden it further when he’d been attacked. There was a haunted expression when he talked about it, which wasn’t surprising given what he’d endured. The remaining tattoo was of a double headed snake, starting at the nape of his neck, right where his hair began, the heads poised to whisper in his ears, and the body rolling down his spine, scales elegantly picked out and detailed in plain black ink. 

“There is no reason it should go down that far.” Virgil moaned, covering his face with both hands. “The tail is pointing  _ right  _ at his ass. Your eyes follow it down and then-”

“There is no way that is an accident.” Logan agreed. “I would blame his association with Remus but I suspect they’re just a pair.” 

“Yeah. Janus hides it and Remus doesn’t, but they’re both little shits.” Virgil agreed, and paused, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Hot little shits.” 

“Indeed.” Logan leaned forward, bracing his arms on his thighs and propping his chin on one hand- an unusual break from his normal excellent posture. “Listen to us gossiping like schoolgirls.” 

Virgil gave a little smile. 

“Well we’re both outsiders here.” He said, looking back out the window, at the traffic passing by- almost entirely foot traffic this time of day, with a few wagons that had exceptions from the rules. “Who else are we going to gossip with?” 

“Are you worried?”

“All the time.” Virgil stroked his fingers down the strings of the lap harp. “I’m not as scared for Roman as I was when we first got here- well not the same way. He’s an idiot- but he’s not stupid. He’s going to be fantastic. I mean, I’m sure there are going to be battles, and he’s going to get hurt, but… it’s weird. I guess I’m not used to having good feelings about things.” He turned back to Logan with a frown. “Don’t tell him I said that. He’ll take it as permission to do something incredibly stupid.” 

“Of course not.” 

“I guess I’m worried about losing him.” Virgil admitted. “I mean, you’re alright.” 

“Thank you for the blessing of your daughter’s hand.” Logan said in his blandest possible tone. Virgil gave a startled bark of laughter, trying to hide it by turning his face away. Virgil didn’t have a stake in metaphorical find the lady game Logan’s sleeping arrangements had become. Since they’d come to stay at the Lavender Wreath, he had his own room, just like Patton did. Technically, Logan had one as well, but he found that when he was alone, he had nightmares. So he’d just come to accept it, since there were alternatives waiting with non-metaphorical open arms. “I know the relationship you have is different, and I can’t claim to understand it; but I don’t think you need to worry about losing him. He thinks the world of you.”

Virgil grunted, looking out the window again, expression a little pinched. 

“Getting back to our previous conversation, I fail to see how you don’t fit into the group.” 

Virgil gestured at himself. 

“All of this?” he demanded. “I’m not even a twink, I’m a twig.” Logan sat back up at that, and stared for a long moment. 

“Are you fishing for compliments, Virgil?” he demanded at last. “Because while you certainly are more slender than the twins or Patton, you are-” he looked for the words that would convey what he meant. 

“I’m not fishing for compliments so you don’t have to apply a trawler net to find some.” 

“Stop.” Logan said firmly, putting out a hand but stopping before he touched Virgil’s leg. “I am merely looking for the right words so you’ll understand my sincerity. If I were to just generally compliment you, it would be easy to dismiss them. For instance, if someone were to say your eyes were lovely, it would just sound like something people said. But if I were to tell you that they are brilliant and captivating, especially when you’re talking about something that interests you, it sounds much more believable.” 

He gave a small puff of a laugh.

“No, still sounds fake.” 

“You do have nice eyes.” Logan protested. “I’ve never met someone with gray eyes before; they catch casts of color from what you wear- or mostly your bangs. The only other person I could think of with gray eyes would be the Goddess Athena, keeper of wisdom and craft.” 

Virgil cleared his throat, trying to disguise a rising flush. 

“But we were speaking mainly of bodies. It’s true you don't have a heavy build or noticeable muscles; but I’ve never seen you struggle to lift anything you chose to carry. I’ve seen you climb things with a frankly appalling speed, which indicates balance, perception and muscle tone- visually you come off with the same sort of dancer’s tone Janus has, and your skin looks incredibly smooth and healthy, given your difficulty with restful slumber. I wouldn’t say you make eyebags look good, but they in no way detract from your appearance which is not something I would expect to say. Not to mention-” he gave a sly smile. “You completed the same dance course I did. I saw first hand what kind of grace and strength you’re capable of.” 

Virgil waved his hands, choking back an embarrassed laugh “I take it back you’re right, supporting your arguments makes compliments more effective, Jeezy creezy.” 

“Are you sure? Because I could continue.”

“Oh shit stop!” 

“Brendan Urie!” Logan said suddenly, pointing at Virgil. “That’s his name. He was a singer and had this video-” 

Virgil fell off the windowsill- fortunately  _ into  _ the room, barely protecting the lap harp by raising it at the last second. Logan leaned forward and took it, setting it on the windowsill. 

“Are you-”

“You can’t just tell someone they look like- I do not-” Virgil choked, brilliant red.

“ _ That’s _ what gets you?” Logan asked, surprised. 

“If you knew half of the time I spent drooling over him…” Virgil choked. 

“Oh. I’ve inadvertently compared you to someone you admire.” 

“Please tell me you weren’t talking about girls/girls/boys.” 

“That was the one where he was naked? Instead of the one with the makeup work?” 

“ _ Those _ are the videos you’ve seen?!” Virgil propped himself up on his arms.

“I was called to arbitrate an argument about sexualization in male vs female forms. My coworkers had me watch that video and one called ‘wrecking ball’.” 

“That’s some whiplash.” 

“There were many things I would have rather spent my lunch break doing.” Logan sighed in agreement. 

“How are you doing?” Virgil asked, turning so he was sitting against the wall beneath the window instead of on the sill. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you sometimes have this panicked look on your face when Ro flirts with you; I could get him to back off. Can’t really offer the same for Remus, but-”

“I’m… getting used to it, I think? I certainly never had this kind of attention paid to me before without the expectation of immediate fornication.”

Virgil snorted, looking up at him. 

“Just lay it right out, L.” 

“If it’s not about sex, it’s about feelings, and I have never been good with feelings.” 

“Who told you that?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Who told you that you weren't good with feelings? I mean, you’re not like, perceptive and emotive like Patton, but you’re direct and honest. If you don’t know what you’re saying, you say that instead of pretending.” Virgil looked a bit sour. “And then admitting it, you know, eight months into the relationship.” There was a brief pause. “Also  _ really _ ? You haven’t fooled around with Remus or Ro?” 

“Define ‘fooled around’? Because if you mean sex, no, not even felatio- we came close a few times though.”

Virgil snorted again “‘came’”

“That was accidental.” Logan protested. 

“Why not?” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why haven’t you done the nasty with the nasty?” Virgil asked. 

Logan considered that question; both in the context of their first journey, and the last few weeks. 

“Ah. Feelings.” he sighed. “At first, when we were in the tangle trap, I was… unprepared. And it felt as though it was giving in to temptation.”

“Like he calls you honeytrap.”

“Which might be why, despite his enthusiasm, he never pushed the issue either.” He ran his hands over the collar of his shirt, and fiddled with the fastenings of his doublet, as if he was unable to decide if he wanted them closed or not. “There was more than one occasion I certainly would have given in with the slightest push.” He tucked a braid behind his ear. “I was a bit put out about Janus; but I think I was mad at myself for getting attached.” He let his hands drop to his sides, and sighed, closing his eyes as he thought about it. “I definitely had the foresight to think about it happening when I was packing supplies for this, even with the lingering feeling of being ‘the other woman’.” 

“You brought lube.” Virgil sounded amused and admiring.

“And condoms. Among many other personal hygiene items. Extra toothbrushes, if you need one. If you don’t mind my being direct-”

“Go ahead; makes it a lot harder for my brain to come up with alternate meanings for everything you say.” 

“I have found myself examining my sexuality for the first time since I realised I was gay. And for that matter considering my romantic orientation. Not to mention the ethical ramifications if I were to pursue a romantic relationship with both twins. I always thought that polyamory was a perfectly reasonable solution to ridiculous love geometry, but faced with it I… I don’t know. I don’t think I could weigh, measure or quantify my attraction to either of them as more or less, however.” he wrinkled his nose. “ _ Feelings _ .” 

“Not everyone is suited for polyamory.” Virgil played with the ties on his shirt. 

“What about you?”

Virgil gave a bitter laugh. “Logan, I’d have to be able to find  _ one  _ person who’d put up with me before I worried about more.” He looked at his hands and cleaned under his nails with the same tiny nervous motions. 

“Who told you that?” Logan turned the question Virgil had asked back on him. Virgil twitched, staring up at Logan. “That someone would have to ‘put up with you’? As though you aren’t a desirable, intelligent, appealing… oh  _ fuck _ .” 

There was a long pause and they just stared at each other. Virgil hesitantly reached out and brushed his hand against Logan’s, trailing his fingers against the back of the other man’s hand. Logan turned his hand and tangled their fingers together. There was another silence, both of them feeling their pulses, especially where their hands were joined. Their developing friendship was a thing of silences that were just as comfortable as words. 

“This.” Logan said at last. “Is the  _ opposite  _ of a solution to my problem.” 

“I want to ask if you mean it; but... Uhm.” Virgil squeezed his hand a little bit. He banged his head against the wall with so much force Logan sat up straight, concerned. “After all the shit I gave Remus about bro code. And fuck- you don’t need this I should-” He tried to pull his hand away, and Logan held on for a moment before letting him go. He curled up in a ball. 

“Are we friends, Virgil?” Logan asked.

“What the hell!?” Virgil asked. Lacking a hood to hide in, he had his arms folded over his head, holding on. 

“I think we are, and so I want to- I should never let you think something that would hurt you, if I could help it. If I can clarify a situation so it won’t tear at your anxiety.”

“I think the ship has sailed on that, L.” Virgil groaned. 

“However inconvenient, I seem to have developed a carnaly-tinted affection for you, and I just want to be clear.” 

“You can say crush.” Virgil mumbled into his knees. “I mean, sounds fake but okay.” 

“Your reaction doesn’t exactly seem like you find the idea abhorrent.” 

“Jesus, no. I fuckin’ wussed out asking you out at the class becasue how fucking creepy would that be ‘yo’ your thighs could crush watermellons, can I get between them anyway?’” 

“I cannot picture you saying that. I think you’ve been spending excessive time with Remus- and that’s coming from me.” there was a hint of humor in his voice. 

“And then Roman was crushing on you, and now-” He looked up at Logan and it appeared he was almost crying. “I was dealing with the weirdest fucking feelings about Remus, you know? Just I’d look at him, and I’d feel something and I couldn’t figure out what it was, so I ignored it. Plus I felt jealous when you were with Ro.”

“Virgil-” Logan got down on the floor beside him. Virgil sighed, and tipped over to lean against him. 

“I don’t want to be that idiot in love with his best friend.” 

The sword hit the cobblestones, and Roman relaxed minutely, reaching down to offer a hand to his opponent. 

“That was a good round.” 

A large hand closed around his and he pulled them upright with a grunt. As he stood to his full height, Roman felt a thrill of terror at how big his opponent was. Big, but lucky for Roman, slow and not that great with a sword. Remus was cackling where he was leaning on the edge of what Roman would have called a list. He gave his opponent a handshake and hopped the fence.

“Remus.” he said in a light, conversational tone. “That was an entire bear.”

“Hey, you don’t know what he does at home!” 

“When you said we were going to a tournament, I really expected that we’d be  _ watching _ .” 

“What’s the fun in that?!” Remus passed him a waterskin, and Roman took a gulp. “You’re not going to get used to the beast hearted if you just keep staring. They’re part of the kingdom too.” 

Roman thought he was doing pretty well at getting used to them. Beast Hearted ran the gamut from slightly humanoid animals- like the bear he’d just fought, almost indistinguishable from a bear with his limited knowledge except for the fact he was wearing clothes- to humans with one or two animal features- usually ears and tail. To complicate things further there was a recessive trait that spread across the entire subrace- the ability to swap between a human form and a completely animal one. He’d lost to a rabbit that could do that less than a half hour before, as that round had been fists and she’d kept flickering between forms as she dodged him. Since she’d also beaten Remus, he at least didn’t have to endure teasing about it. Her name had been Hazel and she’d been really nice about it, with heather gray hair and brown skin, even in human form. 

They had been doing well, but more top three than guaranteed win. Even still, Roman couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being stared at. He tried to be subtle and look around for the source but couldn’t spot it. There was a bit of a crowd however; he was used to tourneys and this had the same feel- a kind of all inclusive sporting event, sponsored by a tavern. The innkeeper was running it, but there were a few street vendors at the edge of the crowd, selling food and trinkets. It seemed to have some connection to a celebration for a small god, but Roman didn’t think he could ask without sounding rude, so he just ran with it. Something about martial prowess or letting off energy. There was a painted wall hanging behind the sign up table, but the figure on it was stylized, so he just got the impression of a young man. They’d dotted their foreheads with shimmering dust that stayed on even when they sweat. Everyone who was participating sported a similar mark. It separated them from the spectators, who were behaving like spectators at any sporting event as far as he could tell. 

But there was still that feeling. He looked over the crowd again. 

“Remus?” he asked. “Is there a reason people would be watching us when we weren’t in the ring?” The list currently held a pair going at each other with staves, and the blows of wood on wood sounded like a very odd percussion instrument. 

“Well, first off, we’re hot as hell.” Remus said. “I mean you don’t tickle my pickle, but objectively.”

“Oh God never say anything like that ever again.” 

“Well now I gotta.” 

Roman swatted his arm as Remus gave a cackle of a laugh. 

“And we’re twins, so weird symmetry fetishy thoughts. Plus it’s a festival for the Pisces, so we’re like, good luck. Wait until the Gemini festivals happen. People just touch twins for good luck in the streets. Shit’s wild.” 

“What, astrology?” demanded Roman. “The stars aren’t even the same here.” 

“Yeah, it’s weird.” Remus shrugged. “I just like to keep track of the festivals for the food, Ro. But there’s a starset associated with each moon, even though they don’t overlap exact-like.” Now he looked out over the crowd idly. Roman wondered what his eyes caught on; did he see weapons, or attractive people, the same way Roman’s eyes caught on interesting jewelry or to be honest, the Beast Hearted. They were definitely people; so at least he wasn’t looking at them and thinking animals. 

“Beyond that, the gossips spread pretty far in the city.” Remus said. “They probably know who we are.” 

“Really?”

“It’s not like we’re hiding.” Remus pointed out. “I mean, we’re being cautious about meeting with people in the rebellion but most people know about the rebellion at least. And me.” He grinned, proud of himself. “And now you.” 

“They’re not going to get excited about the possibility of a different king.” Roman translated. “But they’re going to think about it.” 

“Exactly.” 

Hazel elbowed her way through the crowd until she reached the patch of wall they were waiting against. 

“Hey!”

“Hey.” Roman responded. 

“Just thought you should know- a squad of the kings army just passed by. They stopped by the gate and were watching for a while.”

“Is that unusual?” 

“Nah, we usually see a few squads through a moon. The real risk is the ones lookin’ to make sure witches get licenced. They did seem mighty interested in you-” She smiled and her nose wrinkled up. “But I doubt that’s unusual for you.” 

“I am always ready to bask in the attention of my abhor -ing public.” Remus said cheerfully, giving her a wink. “But we have a tournament to finish, and  _ they  _ didn’t sign up.” 

Hazel laughed. “Well, I’m about to get my butt kicked because it’s not my round to pick; but you might want to throw a round or two and get your royal butts off the street.” She picked up a pair of short blades from the weapon stand- no one got to use their own weapons, only ones approved by the sponsoring tavern to prevent accidental- or purposeful- injuries. 

Roman looked at his brother, a little affronted. 

“Did she just suggest we lose on purpose to avoid a fight?” 

“I think she did.”

“Oh, we have to win now.” 

They did make it to the last round- or rather Roman had; Remus had been taken out by a spear and was cheerfully nursing a black eye; maybe there was something to luck, because it was his round to pick the style. Of course maybe there  _ wasn’t  _ because his opponent was the same person who took Remus out, tall and slim and cooly confident with a blunted spear against Roman’s sword and shield. It wasn’t armored, but it wasn't significantly different than any other tourney he’d fought in. 

At the starting call, he dove right in. He reviewed all the advice people had given him about dealing with pole weapons. Close fast was one of them, it was much harder to use a staff or spear at close quarters. A ringing blow knocked the edge of his shield into his head, but averted the thrust as he charged. Another thrust was parried, as he chased his opponent around the ring. He kept his shield up and ready- then he caught a glimpse of something very distracting. 

The squad of soldiers had returned and was standing, obviously pretending to be subtle, in a line across the courtyard gate. At the last second he twisted aside and the spear thrust past his body. Focus on the fight at hand. 

“Say,” he said, just a little out of breath. “I’m really impressed. What do you do as a day job?” He launched an attack after the question, and the spear-wielder twisted out of the way, trying to bring the butt up to strike at Roman’s hand, and instead lashed out with a foot, scraping a boot down his shin. 

“Fisher.” they grunted. 

“Good work.” Roman agreed pleasantly. “Steady. I’m kind of between jobs at the moment.” He whirled, momentarily showing his back- just long enough that his opponent pulled back his spear to strike- but the quick attack to the side was blocked solidly on the spear’s shaft. “Damn.”

“You’re a quick little fellow.” 

“And I could almost mistake you for your spear.” 

“If you wanted to chat-” there was another exchange of blows. “You should have picked compliments for the weapon.” 

“That was an  _ option _ ?” Roman demanded, affronted. His opponent laughed, and caught Roman with the same move that used his own shield against him. That was going to bruise. “Easy on the face, would you? It’s all I’ve got going for me-” That got another laugh. “Glad you’re having fun.” He backed up, suddenly almost to the edge of the ring- giving the spear wielder room to unleash an absolutely flurry of blows, which he caught with the shield. Frankly his arm was numb from it; but it gave him room to look at the squad again. They had purpose, but they were relaxed. If they were there to cause trouble, he would expect them to be tense. Regardless if their three former prisoners had made it in to report, one would hope they’d be smart enough not to send a single squad after them. Remus seemed to catch where he was looking, and strolled through the crowd, as if disinterested in his brother’s fight. Before having his attention dragged back to what he was doing, Roman caught Remus buying something grilled on a stick, quite near the entryway. 

He really didn’t have time to watch whatever was going on back there though. The crowd seemed to be really enjoying the showmanship, but if he didn’t get back inside the spear’s guard he was done for. Since kicks seemed to be allowed, he let himself be a little rude, and slammed his shield forward, knocking his opponent back several feet. They hissed, fingers twitching on the shaft, but they lunged before they were ready. Roman snapped his sword out, pinning the point of the spear to the ground, and brought his shield down edge along the shaft. It fell from the poor fisher’s fingers to clatter to the paving stones, and Roman pushed forward before they could lunge for it. He brought his sword up, pointing at the center of their mass, and they raised their hands. 

The crowd cheered. Roman felt like cheering. That was possibly the best round he’d ever had against a spear, and he wished someone had seen it. He offered his hand to the other fighter. 

“That was wonderful. My name is Roman, and you are?”

“Tara.” they responded. 

“... Tara, I believe I may have been making an error- ah-”

“She/they, yeah. I get it a lot.” 

“My apologies.”

“It’s cool. I would have had you without the shield bash.”

“You absolutely would have.” Roman agreed. “I don’t think I’m going to apologise for that though.” 

Tara laughed. 

“Well, I’m not going to apologise for making you bleed, because honestly that’s a good trick.” 

“Bleed?” He reached up to touch his head, and his hand came away sticky. Apparently it was a little more than a bruise. But it didn’t seem to be bleeding a lot so it was probably okay. “No, that’s fair. Good job.” 

The organizer came up to them cheerfully, and congratulated them both, pulling them up to the front of the crowd, where the sign up table had been outside the inn’s doors. The table was gone now, leaving an empty area where a group of people with instruments were lounging on a just slightly raised platform. At the orginizers’s prompting, Roman dipped down and the dot on his forehead was accented with a swipe on either side, and he was given a garland woven of fresh flowers. Tara was given one as well, and Remus, as the third runner up, who refused to put down the grilled something-with-tentacles he’d gotten. Then everyone got a mug of ale. Roman wished he’d been there earlier because he would have loved to see how they got the enormous barrel, decorated with flower garlands, and that banner with the vague god into the courtyard. Roman noticed that the white mica dusting on the loser’s foreheads had turned a dusty black, still shimmering. Remus bumped up against him. 

“You didn’t have to work so hard to keep matching me, bro.” he laughed, guestering at the small cut and large bruise on Roman’s forehead. Under his breath he muttered. “They’re here about the gathering; not us.” Roman gave a small nod. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Roman said loftily. “ _ Clearly _ I am the alpha twin. I won and everything. See-” he tapped his forehead, and winced because he’d done it on the bruised side. “White glitter.” 

“You won because they didn’t make us fight each other.” Remus gave him a shove. People in the crowd watched this exchange and laughed, congratulating their skills. Roman let himself get pulled into conversations about techniques, and half forgot the soldiers, until one came up and knocked on the side of the barrel, getting everyone’s attention. 

“So what’s going on here?”

“It’s a Pisces Moon tournament, in honor of the Reckless.” the owner of the tavern said. “Pretty standard. Is there a problem?” he looked the soldier up and down, prety visibly unimpressed. Roman raised his mug to his mouth, looking them over again. They wore the same blue-green uniform- most of them in a lighter tone, with two slightly older looking soldiers in a darker shade; accompanied with more goldenrod and black trim. It matched the pattern of the squad they’d ‘met’ at the villa. He took another gulp. 

“Can I see your permits?” 

“Do I need permits to hold a festival in my own courtyard?” There was a frown on the innkeeper’s face now. “I never have before.”

“We’re just trying to keep things nice and orderly. Making things a bit more organised.” The Sergeant said, “It’s been a strange sort of spring.” 

“More changes.” grumbled the innkeeper. “Why is it that changes always bring more trouble for the working class?” 

“So I take it you don’t have permits?” 

“No, I do not.” 

“Then it’s all gotta stop.” he shrugged like it was out of his control. “Pack it up unless you’re staying here.” he called to the crowd. 

“Hey wait!” called someone.

“It’s just gotten to the good part.” someone else complained. 

“Have a drink and shut the fuck up, soldier boy.” 

“Don’t disrupt the luck.” booed someone in the crowd. 

“Now wait-” the innkeeper raised his hands “I think that’s a little much; the tourney’s over this is just the afterparty; we’ve never needed a permit for this kind of thing before.” His ears flicked and a woman in a leather apron stepped up next to him and nodded. 

“I hosted last time, so this is new; right? How about a pass, and next time, we’ll see about getting those permits.” 

“It’s a safety thing.” protested the sergeant. “If you don’t have permits, how will people know it’s all safe?”

“No one’s died yet.” Joked someone and there was an amused cheer. The sergant did not look amused, but one of the soldiers ducked their heads. 

“Fuckin’ it’s the spirits licencing all over again.” groaned the woman in the leather apron. 

“How about this one;” suggested the innkeeper, sounding a bit exasperated. “Why don’t you go get the  _ city  _ watch, and when you come back we’ll have a chat about it? I may jump when the Dogs bark, but you lot are a lot less permanent.” 

“That is the point,” the Sergeant said firmly. “That being a rotating system we are less likely to fall prey to grifts and bribery.” 

“I don’t know what kind of festivals you had in your hometown, but it’s important to finish what you start, unless you want the gods to get cranky, you finish the ritual, even if the end of it’s just a keg.”

“My life’s bad enough without making the Reckless mad.” Grumbled someone, pushing to the front of the crowd. “Better for you to join in.” 

“Who couldn’t use more luck!” 

“Look-” the sergeant slapped their hand against the barrel again, and pointed at the innkeeper. “This is all on you; Ster. I’m just doing my job here, and you’re making it difficult.”

“Wasn’t so difficult afore you came.” 

“Get outta the way of the butt, at least.” complained another. 

Remus and Roman looked at eachother, Remus chewing on the now empty skewer. He shrugged with one shoulder. Roman rolled his shoulders, trying to settle himself. He felt restless and itchy watching this scene unfold. It didn’t feel right to do nothing.

“You seem to have picked your time to make a bit of a scene, fellows.” Roman drawled, stepping out of the crowd. “Since you’ve been in and out all afternoon, watching.” He gave his most charming smile, not sure what was possessing him to speak up. “Surely that’s not what you  _ wanted _ , is it? To make some sort of example? If you wanted some trouble we could arm wrestle for it?” 

There was a murmur in the crowd, something that sounded like ‘Reckless’, as he stepped up beside the innkeeper. 

“It would be an awfully arbitrary divide to start applying a law no one’s heard of mid day, wouldn’t it?” 

The sergeant glared at him, and the innkeeper and his friend stepped back a little surprised. 

“Because if you were to seriously stop a celebration in honor of a god, for such a petty thing, in front of a whole crowd who were more than a few drinks in; a crowd that included people who were skilled with weapons. Well, that’s almost  _ asking  _ for a riot, isn’t it?” 

Remus spat out the chewed skewer, and looked towards the gate suddenly, thoughtfully. He strode towards it with purpose, and one of the soldiers started to stand in his way, but wavered back as Remus just hooked a foot into the open gate and climbed on top of it, looking up and down the street. 

“No one wants a riot. Nasty things.” He glanced over at his brother, who flicked a lazy salute, then two fingers. “Do you want that?” Roman leaned down a bit, leaning past the Sergeant. “A riot?” 

“No one wants a riot.” he agreed, slowly. “That would be stupid.”

“And certainly no one wants to be in the  _ center  _ of the riot when it starts. That would be... reckless.” Roman made eye contact, steadily and flicked his eyebrows up. The sergeant's eyes widened as if that factor had just occurred to him. Roman straightened up, and put a mug of ale into the sergeant’s hands. “Good man, why don’t we invite your friends in? I gather the barrel needs to be done for the celebration to end, so the more the merrier, and the less hung over we’ll all be!” From his perch on the gate, Remus laughed, and waved down the street. 

“Are you having fun?” the sergeant hissed at Roman, as he was nudged away from the tap, to the side.

“I was. That was the plan.” he fiddled with the tap, filling mugs and handing them to nearby soldiers. “That’s the festival. Have fun, cause a controlled ruckus, get a bit drunk.” 

“I don’t know what you’re planning-”

Roman snorted, then laughed.

“The only thing I’m planning right now is to get drunk.” 

“It’s not going to work.” 

“Have you tried this ale? Look at the size of this barrel. I think I’ll manage.”

“Do you actually think that you’re the lost-” 

The band started up, and there was a cheer from the crowd, the combat ring opened up and repurposed to a dance floor. The innkeeper came up, and gave Roman a pat on the shoulder, focusing on the sergeant. 

“I can’t very well go get the permit while it’s going on, that would be asking for trouble with the Reckless called. Once everyone has gone home, we’ll go to town hall and figure this out, clean and neat, right?” 

The sergeant looked at the mug of ale in his hand and dropped it. The pottery shattered, and the drink spattered across their boots. He glared at Roman, then glared at his men, some of which had accepted and were drinking. 

“I’ll be back bright and early, don’t you worry. We can’t take your offer however. That’d be accepting a bribe, wouldn’t it?” the last was spoken very sharply at his squad. The ones who’d accepted the ale chugged it and put the mugs down, trying to look innocent. He barked a command and they turned around and left. Remus, still perched on the gate, gave them a wave goodbye before dropping down and strolling back to Roman, getting another mug of ale himself. 

“What the hell was that?”

“Stopping a riot?” Roman offered. “Do you think I could get up onto this barrel? It’s huge!” 

“Just walk up and-” Remus considered the barrel. “With or without ripping the decorations off?” 

It was late when they got back to the Lavender Wreath. They were giggling and hushing each other. They were certainly not as drunk as many of the other competitors had been, and they were much more sober than they’d been when they started back. But the twins were gloriously, numbly drunk, and utterly focused on getting back to their beds. As they approached the door that opened up on their rooms, it opened on it’s own, and Logan appeared in it, staring at them. From the looks of things, he’d been asleep, and was not expecting to encounter them.

“Logan!” the twins chorused gleefully, before clapping a hand over the other’s face. Logan sighed, and they let go of eachother in favor of rushing him, pressing into the common room of the space they were renting as they wrapped themselves around him. The door swung shut. 

“You both stink.” Logan said directly, barely keeping his balance in the middle of a knot of twins.

“We had a wonderful time!” Remus laid his chin on Logan’s shoulder. 

“You’re covered in bruises.” 

“I won!” Roman said cheerfully and kissed Logan’s cheek. “That means victory kisses!” 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass on that.” They were both leaning heavily on him, arms wrapped around. “You are drunk.” 

“Aw.” Remus said, sounding defeated. “He can tell.”

“It’s not as if it’s not obvious.” 

“Little kiss?” Roman asked, nosing at the line of Logan’s jaw. “Please? I was a hero and I ran off soldiers without fighting and I beat a girl-they with a spear, and then we drank all the beer and broke the barrel ends open and rolled it around with people inside.” he pulled back a little bit. “Logan, I faced someone with a pole weapon one on one and I  _ won _ .” He dropped more kisses on the side of Logan’s face. “I am so proud of me.” 

When Roman pulled back, Remus snuggled closer, tipping Logan against Roman. Logan sighed. He was much too tired for this- he simply had wanted to use the restroom, not to be covered in drunken kisses. 

“Roman.” Logan got his attention with a kiss, leaving him focused entirely on Logan. “You need to talk to V. It’s important.” 

“Virgil!” Roman instantly stood up straighter. “He needs me?” 

“Yes.” Logan fought down a smile at that reaction. “He was a bit off this evening.” 

Dropping one more kiss on Logan’s cheek, Roman immediately headed towards Virgil’s room, only listing a little. 

“Ooh getting rid of the heir to play with the spare?” Remus mumbled happily, kissing Logan’s neck. Logan sighed. 

“More like one down and one to go.” He hitched his arm so Remus was a bit more upright instead of leaning on him. “I should dump you in my bed and join Janus on my own.” 

“That's hot.” 

There was a faint knock on Virgil’s door, which startled him out of his not-sleeping-but-staring trance before it opened, just enough to let someone in. Even without proper light, Virgil recognised the way the silhouette moved, and put the knife back as Roman sat awkwardly on the edge of the narrow bed.

“Hey Virge.” he mumbled. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine.” he mumbled. “Did you just get back? It’s been dark for ages.”

“There was… a thing. We had to finish the thing, cuz I won.” Roman smelled like beer, but also sweat and flowers. “Did I wake you up?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Virgil muttered, sitting up against the headboard. 

“You should be sleeping.” Roman said. “You said you were doing better.”

“I am-” Virgil protested weakly. He was, the lack of the sound of electronics and the reduced light pollution had improved his insomnia a great deal. He’d been sleeping much better here. But sometimes the call was coming from inside the house and sleeping was just beyond him. “And you’re drunk.”

“I’m only drunk-ish now…” Roman protested. “You missed it. I won against a spear and you missed it and you’re never gonna believe me.” he patted the bed near Virgil’s leg, and Virgil put his hand under it. 

“Pics or it didn’t happen.” Virgil teased. 

“Noo-” Roman whined, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “No fair. I got magic makeup on my forehead and flowers.” He pulled his hand away, and pulled the garland off his neck, dropping it over Virgil’s head instead. The smell of the flowers, tiny bell shaped lilies and fragrant purple clusters overwhelmed the smell of sweat and alcohol momentarily. “And a lot of beer. We drank a butt-load of beer. Did you know a butt is a size of barrel? It’s huge!”

“That explains a lot. You’re going to be so hung over.”

“I’ll be fine. What about you?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“No, how are you? What’s the matter? Logan said you had a hard afternoon?” 

Virgil groaned. How Logan had snitched in the middle of the fucking night was beyond him. But Logan had his own difficulties with sleep, he supposed. 

“I do have to talk to you, but I don’t want to talk to Drunk Roman.” 

“Oooh. Important.” Roman said. “Okay.” He crawled up onto the bed and nudged Virgil over towards the wall.

“No, wait, what are you doing?” Virgil demanded. 

Roman fumbled with his boots and shoved them off, then grabbed his doublet and pulled it and his shirt over his head at one go, tossing it towards the end of the bed, where it slithered to the floor. Roman made an annoyed little noise as he got his belt off, dropping it on the bedside table, leaving him wearing only his pants. 

“Sounds important.” Roman said. “So I’m staying here so I remember in the morning.” He slipped his legs under the blanket and smoothed it out over both of them. “Which it is, or at least will be way too soon, cuz it’s like the witching hour.”

“Which hour is that?” Virgil teazed, as Roman slid down onto the mattress. 

“Too damn late.” Roman retorted, and reached up, pulling Virgil down to lie with him. “The hour of your snoose.” 

There were three small rooms and three big ones in their suite. One of the big rooms was in the center, with a table and chairs and cushions for lounging. Two of the bigger rooms had big, comfortable, queen-sized beds. Those had gone to the twins- Remus because he was sharing with Janus, and Roman because it would be weird for anyone else to do so- not to mention Logan sometimes shared. All three of the small rooms were set up dorm-style with narrower beds that were barely twins. Bigger than dorm beds, at least, and they’d shared those occasionally before they got an apartment. Still, they had to lie pretty close. And Roman’s breath stunk of beer.

“Budge over, Prince charming.” Virgil mumbled. “You’ve still got less hair, you’re still the little spoon.” 

“How will I protect you?” Mumbled Roman, half asleep already, but rolling onto his side as directed. 

“You’ll manage.” Virgil told him, and let his cheek rest on his friend's back. Reaching back, Roman laced his fingers with Virgil’s and squeezed, pulling the arm around himself. Somehow, that was soothing, and Virgil found himself drifting off. 

Patton tapped his first two fingers together, his hands laced palm to palm other than that. His expression was somewhat pinched. Janus looked absolutely exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even Logan looked a trifle disappointed, hands folded over the newspaper on the table. 

“It wasn’t on the front page?” Remus offered. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Roman mumbled. 

“Clearly you weren’t.” Janus sighed. “So I won’t ask you what you were thinking; I don’t know why I expected forethought.” He looked at Remus pointedly. 

“Hey, if they hadn’t shown up to cause trouble, it would’ve been nothing but rumors, like a unicorn fart.” He leaned back in his seat. “We were just having some fun.”

“The army is encroaching more and more.” Patton said softly. “Coming to deliver new laws from the capital. We’re here in Smithport because it’s a convenient place for rumors to come and go from, but we were supposed to stay rumors.” 

“The number of laws passed down from the capital have increased as well.” Logan said “The city charter has laws for the city and environs, as well as following the larger laws of the country. Over the past five years, the number of laws the country has imposed has tripled, and some of them are even clearly intended to overrule city laws. I’ve only really studied the laws of this city, so I can’t say for sure, but that would be my guess.” 

“So what, I’m not supposed to do anything if people are being harassed?” Roman demanded. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“That’s not what we’re saying.” Patton assured him.

“Right now we’re in a delicate position, Roman.” Janus sighed. “The resistance, and our group, in particular. If something were to happen to you, at this point, there would be very little we could do to help you. We have some support but it’s not enough. In order to properly accomplish the goal of disposing of the usurper, we need enough support in the nobles and the government to distract the army- which for the most part was built up by the tyrant in the last decade.” 

“Not only that, most people think Roman’s dead, which is why the council could put the usurper on the throne. It’s been nearly two decades since that lie was put out, and while we have been fighting against that, most people believe it.” 

“The paper seems to?” Roman offered. “Look, I am sorry, but I’m also not sure how I’m supposed to prove my existence. This strikes me as another one of those ‘starting whispers’ moments we were talking about. It’s not like the- like Florida. They don’t have a photo of me to add to it. My existence is more like mothman than bigfoot.” 

“Oh wow, that would be great.” Patton said thoughtfully. “A few photos of you and Remus floating around.” He tipped his head at Janus. “Do you think some photos would help?” 

“It would be moving forward a lot faster than we initially planned.” Janus replied. “At that point we would want a trusted source to spread the information instead of just vague whispers. I’m not sure it would be a good idea until we can find the traitors in the resistance.” 

“I am looking forward to the chance to interrogate Dorian.” Patton admitted. “Maybe he had a reason?”

“I can’t think of a good reason. He’s been named in two different events. It would have been more… bloodless? If Lupe and her sons had just been trapped in Florida; instead of what happened, there would be no foothold for rebellion. Likewise, if you’d succeeded in creating an artificial cut, Roman would have been brought back sooner. What Dorian has done might have been soft blocks, but they were well placed.” 

“That does seem like he is actively seeking to prevent the previous royal line from continuing.” Logan said. 

“Well, there’s going to be another problem with that.” Roman said, laughing uncomfortably. Virgil covered his face with one hand. 

Patton flapped a hand at Roman. 

“Don’t worry about that, kiddo. That’s a bridge we can cross later.” 

“I just find it hard to believe that the traitors are only in the Mages Circle. The Circle is under a lot of strain, given that they advocate for Roman’s claim to the throne.”

“For one thing;” Remus said, as Roman reached across the table and tugged the broad sheet paper from Logan’s hands so he could read the article himself. “Me and babysnakes work in tandem; he communicates with the Circle, and I work with the nobles and lower.” 

“It was a good system, but I lost track of a lot of things in the last year while Remus was missing.” Janus admitted. “Sadly, beyond … emotional support, many of the Circle won’t communicate with a scrubbed mage.” His lip curled in distaste . “As if it’s catching.” there was a pause. “Though they did offer to let me go if I gave up the locations of other Mages, so-” 

“Ugh.“ Roman mumbled. “That has to stop.” he could cover the article with his hand- while it lead with the phrase ‘The Twin Princes appeared to lead a Festival of the Reckless and defuse a sticky situation’ it was largely about the festival, and the increasing number of laws and licencing that was being passed out from the capital. They weren’t the focus, they were the hook. There were a few quotes from people who’s spoken to them, but they all seemed to be from fairly early in the evening- after the incident but before people were incoherent; probably so the article could be available for the broadsheet. “There has to be something we can do while I’m being fantasy Elvis.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“What is the resistance  _ doing _ ?” Roman asked. “Is it supporting people who are being unjustly attacked-” he gestured at Janus, “Or helping people who are being subjected to new and inappropriate laws? I’m willing to bet the fees for the permits go right to the king, not to the local municipalities. The fact they’re being introduced and enforced by martial law pretty much guarantees that. This is more than taxes. The Impro Corps- I looked into them, they do road work, build bridges and things like that. But that’s just happening with normal taxes. Why is he building the army? Where is the rest of the money going?” 

Janus tipped his head at Roman, the scarred side disappearing into his hair for a moment. 

“I am… surprised, and gratified.” He said after a long moment. “I mean if you’d been a natural idiot, I would have gladly just manipulated you, but you’re really thinking about all of this.” 

“Am I a natural idiot?” Remus asked, putting his chin on Janus’s shoulder.

“You are a supernatrualy idiotic idiot.” Janus said fondly. “You have valid questions about the resistance, Roman.”

“Which you’re not going to answer.”

“Which I’m not going to answer.” Janus agreed. 

“Ugh.” Roman dropped his head on the table. “I’m barely hungover and I’m still too hungover for this.” 

“Yet.” Janus added. “Because we are skipping town before those squads of soldiers that you ‘charmed’ into leaving the festival find us.” 

“Do you know Wistera’s husband, Potyne? The blond? He said that rumor places at least ten squads in the city and more in the surrounding countryside.” Patton said nervously. 

“They wouldn’t even need that many to capture us, providing capture is what is on their minds.”

“I have been wondering, is the entire council against- well Roman’s return? Do we know?”

“The council did push for the usurper to be crowned; but they were pushing for that before the supposed death. I think the original plan was that he would become king and Roman would follow him.” Remus said. “But that was a long time ago.”

“I hate to ask this mostly because I’m pretty sure you’ve told me before and I’ve forgotten;” Roman said. “But how long has he been on the throne?” 

“Since I was thirteen.” Remus answered after a long silence. “Mom fought them every step of the way, especially when they were working to declare you dead. We only found out that he was a dragon maybe three years ago. We tried to spread that rumor but it does kind of sound like bullshit.” 

“That’s half your lifetime.” Logan said. 

“ _ I am aware _ !” he snarled. 

Logan drew back, blinking. 

“I can count. I don’t even have to take my boots off.” Remus continued. “Can we just… make it so this happens before children who weren’t born yet end up fighting against us?”

“Yes.” Roman said, and reached across the table to grab his brother’s hand. Remus looked surprised. “I saw the posters. They’re recruiting at fifteen. Fifteen year olds joining the army. The public schools still have full clases until age eighteen. Kids who think they’re stupid are going to join the army and die so I can be king.” He digested what he’d just said. “Kids are already in the army.” there was a pause. “I could have killed a kid.” 

“Ro?” Remus said, as his hand was clamped harder and harder. 

“Shit.” Virgil said. “Roman? You with us?”

There was a faint noise that might have been a yes. 

“Exhale.” Virgil ordered, putting a hand in the center of Roman’s back. 

Breath hissed out between his clenched teeth and he rocked in place a little bit. 

“Don’t breathe in yet, wait for my count, and do it slowly.” Virgil ordered. “One. Two. Three. Four. Hold it. Look around the room while you hold it. Don’t talk, but look for something white. Do you see it?” 

Roman nodded. 

“Good. Exhale. Slowly. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Find something black.” When Roman nodded, Virgil repeated the steps, cycling through colors. Finally, Roman let go of his brother’s hands and turned his face into Virgil’s chest. 

“That’s  _ exhausting _ .” he mumbled. 

“Dynamic tension, dumbass, that’s how I stay fit.” Virgil smirked, and patted the back of Roman’s head. 

“Is he okay?” Janus asked. 

“Do they not have panic attacks here?” Virgil demanded. “I think he just realised that he killed someone again. At least he didn’t throw up this time.” 

“Traitor.” Mumbled Roman. 

“Roman’s right.” Remus said. “We’re moving too slowly.”

“Remus-”

“No. We couldn’t move before, and we can now. We don’t have to head straight for the capital-”

“This group isn’t moving straight anywhere.” Roman joked where he was still pressed to Virgil’s chest. He yelped as Virgil pinched his ear. 

“But that’s no reason to fuck around with shadow plays. I bet that if we find the traitor in the Mage’s Circle, we’ll suddenly be able to pinpoint other weak places in our line. We don’t have to wait, and let the usurper gain any more power.”

“Well, that being said.” Patton said diplomatically. “We don’t have to give him a free shot at us here, either. We can talk about time tables later; right now what we need to focus on is staying out of reach.” He produced a folded piece of paper. “In other news-” he said in a terrible impression of a news caster. “I’ve been back in contact with a friend in the Circle; and she told me that the Circle is gathering. We can head there. Chances are Dorian will be coming, and we can get our hands on him there.” Janus looked a little put out but nodded. 

“I don’t particularly care for the idea of trying to confront a mage in front of a group of other mages whose loyalties we don’t know, but neither Patton nor I are particularly good at precognitive scrying; we can’t predict where he’s going to be; so this isn’t a bad plan.” 

“Since Mom left things with the circle we’ll be able to get our hands on them, and that includes Roman’s seal, so he’ll be able to start sending letters and shaking things up.”

“Wait, there is a magical object that can verify me and no one mentioned it until now?” 

“Eh yes and no?” Patton said. “Only someone from Lupe’s bloodline can open her vault; and the seal was attuned to you when you took the oath of the heir. Theoretically it could be fooled; but that’s just splitting heirs at this point.” 

Janus groaned, putting his face in his hands. “Really, Patton? Now?!” 

Roman finally got to the bathhouse after the discussion. The garland had disintegrated while they slept leaving both Roman and Virgil covered in tiny flowers pressed into their skin and hair, but it didn’t disguise the fact Roman needed to bathe. Virgil seemed disinclined to push whatever it was he needed to talk with him about, so he let it go for now; they could talk about it on the road. He scrubbed the back of his neck, probably too hard, and poured a bucket of warm water over himself. He hoped, eventually that he could bathe without thinking about anime, but for now that’s just how things were. It was kind of a relief given the rest of the thoughts that were circling.

“Hello.” 

Roman jumped a mile, grabbing a towel.

“My apologies.” Logan was standing just inside the bathing room with a bundle. “I brought you clean clothes.” 

“Thanks.” Roman sighed. 

“I hate to say something, given our location, but you seem troubled.” 

“I'm getting used to social bathing, it’s cool.” Roman dragged his hands through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “It’s weird how natural it feels. I mean, between theatre and the SCA, I don’t really think about people changing clothes; partial nudity isn’t a big deal, so I guess this is just a reasonable jump.”

“Frankly the American attitude linking all nudity to sex is unusal, casual nuditiy in bathing environments is much more common, and frankly it’s more of a recent development.” 

Roman gave a little laugh, and smiled at Logan. Despite Logan’s rationalized calm and head start on getting used to social bathing, he still took the opportunity to admire aesthetics. Roman remained striking; and continued exposure didn’t make it less dazzling, especially when it was focused on him. 

“So what’s everyone else up to?” Roman squeezed water from his hair before starting to dry it, facing politely away. 

“Patton has taken over travel arrangements. Virgil and Janus are squabbling about packing; but I think that’s just how they communicate. Remus is egging them on, he had just made a joke about oil wrestling when I realised you hadn’t brought fresh clothes..” 

Roman nodded to himself, and took the bundle of clothing from Logan, looking it over critically before getting dressed. 

“Good, everyone sounds busy.”

“That is an ominous sounding statement.” Logan observed. “Roman, what do you have planned?”

“Might go for a walk.” Roman said, muffled as he pulled his shirt on. “Might sow some seeds of discord in the local barracks. I’m feeling whimsical.”

“Are you seriously suggesting that you’re just going to walk up to the outpost of the army which is, most likely, hunting you down to have a chat?”

“The rank and file seem pretty impressionable.” Roman offered. “I wasn’t planning on trying to integrate with the officers club.” He began braiding his hair back sharply by the face, barely able to secure it in a french braid. That done he looked at his face in the polished metal mirror on the wall, checking on his stubble, and prodding carefully at the already greening bruise on his forehead. 

“What do you hope to accomplish?” Logan demanded. 

“Do you remember Saffron and Veert?” Roman asked, as he got his boots on. “I want to make them think. Are you Star Wars or Star Trek?”

“What?” Logan said, shaking his head. “... they’re completely different genres of science fiction.” 

“A nerd of discernment and taste.” Roman grinned. “What if the stormtroopers missed on purpose? If they had a reason to maybe not defy orders but just… delay them a bit?” 

“Do you think it would work?”

“ ‘Remember that you can’t save everyone.’ “ Roman quoted. “ ‘Remember you have to  _ try _ .’” 

Logan sighed, pushing his glasses up far enough that he could pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You’re trying to convince me with a meme.”

“I think it’s more of an inspirational quote.” 

Logan settled his glasses. “If I say we leave, we leave.” he said firmly. “You aren't replaceable.” 

“Nobody’s replaceable.” He offered his hand, and Logan took it, allowing himself to be pulled out into the hallway and out the back of the inn. 

The barracks they ended up in were fairly open, which surprised Logan. He would have expected the fantasy equivalent of razorwire and tall walls, but it honestly resembled an inn with a large stable more than anything else. A young woman in the lighter blue green uniform of the army was sweeping the cobbles of the gated courtyard. As they walked casually into the courtyard, a courier rode in, dropping their reins over a hitching post. The soldier put her broom down to lead the horse over to a trough. With a nod to her, the courier strode into what looked to be an office with a click of riding boots. Two banners hung outside of it, six circles interlocking to make a sort of star, and then the same motif, only held cradled in a dragon’s wings. Glancing at it, Roman inclined his head at it, then nodded off to the side, where an open hallway led to a second courtyard. No one stopped them as they strolled through it. 

The main court yard had been cobbled, but this one was dirt and scrubby plants at the edges. There were benches and tables scattered here and there, and it shared a fence wall with what looked like a paddock, where horses tugged at hay from a large rick at the center. 

Also scattered around the yard were people of assorted ages, generally wearing narrow sleeved shirts that looked to be made of undyed fabric, and uniform pants. Some of the male leaning people had discarded their shirts entirely. There was a table of people playing a card game, two people in a corner sitting entirely too close, someone with a basket of shirts and an irritated expression as they patched one in their lap, and a general feeling of relaxation. A few of them glanced up as they entered, but no one really paid attention. Roman looked around and then joined the erstwhile tailor on their bench. 

“Want a hand?” he asked. 

“If you can sew, yeah.” they retorted. Roman laughed, and grabbed one of the shirts from the basket, finding a large tear down one sleeve. He quickly threaded a needle from the soldier’s kit and began closing the tear. 

“Oh thank a thousand tiny gods.” groaned the soldier and gave a smile to Roman. “I might actually get to enjoy the off day.” 

“I hope they’re rewarding you for this. I doubt you’re this hard on your clothes.” Roman said with a cheeky wink. The soldier laughed. 

“Well yeah, but free time is free time. I don’t recognise you, what squad are you in?”

“My name’s Roman. I’m new.” 

“Ah, wow, a useful recruit. I’m Gordan.” They freed up their hands to shake. “Not very imaginative parents? I know like ten Romans.” 

“It’s a good name!” Roman jokingly retorted. “At least it’s not Courtney!” 

“Well you can always change it on the roster with a formal request if you want. It is a good name-” He cut off a thread, looked over the shirt and set it to the side, grabbing another. Roman meanwhile finished up the mend and checked it over, finding a holiday in a seam and fixing it “But not really lucky one right now.” 

“Maybe not, but I wouldn’t change it if I could. Family name, you know.” 

Gordan squinted at Roman for a second. 

“I see.” 

Roman smiled again. 

“Interesting times we live in, huh?” 

“More interesting than I expected.” He scratched his chin. Logan looked away, glancing around the courtyard. He couldn’t just stand there and watch Roman talk. At the same time, he doubted he could just strike up a conversation like that. A hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped. The young woman from the courtyard was standing behind him. 

“Hey, you a scholar?” 

“Uh, yes, I guess?” 

“I saw the glasses and I was hoping. Look, the scribe is off and Ben has the worst fucking hand writing; can you come and take dictation?” 

“I…” he glanced over at Roman who had engaged Gordan in further conversation. “I suppose so?” Glasses weren’t uncommon in Sanders, less so than he was used to, but common enough that it just marked him as middle class or above. He followed the slim soldier back through the arch and into the office. 

“You found a scribe?” Ben was middle aged, and had a pinched look about his face that Logan personally identified as needing glasses and pretending that he didn’t. His uniform was a dark, rich teal, with broad cuffs and collar in goldenrod. The courier they’d seen enter was at a small table under the window eating a sandwich, as if waiting. 

“Close enough.” she nudged him towards the desk. “He can write out your letter.” 

Nervously, Logan took a seat at the writing desk, looking over the materials. Then he took a sheet of paper and set it down, automatically pulling out his own pen case and setting it to the side. The pens in the desk looked poorly cleaned. Logan couldn’t think well of whoever’s desk he was using. 

“At your convenience, sir.” he said.

“Oooh, we got a polite one.” Ben patted his shoulder. “Nice change. Right- To General Dakuga, Southern Depot; I have received your message, and can offer the following confirmation: Reports of the alleged twin princes continue to come in. I have not personally laid eyes on them but five of my sergeants have. Likewise there has been an influx of tourism over the past two weeks in the noble houses and guild masters in the surrounding countryside. There are no major festivals currently planned in Smithport, so this is unusual. Will continue to monitor travel through the major gates and transport docks. The sergeants and their squads seemed fairly impressed by what they saw. I will attach a copy of their reports. Your previous messages don’t suggest a course of action, just a warning to watch for them. Please advise, I can’t help but feel this is above my paygrade-” He paused. “Scratch out that last sentence. Just ‘please advise’” 

“Of course.” Logan had left the word ‘alleged’ out of his copy, perhaps a bit cheekily. He knew they were the real thing, after all. 

“Good job. Continuing- We continue to recruit and will send new squads to training camp shortly; the Beast Hearted seem to have noticed that we aren’t accepting them and have ceased attempting to enlist for the most part. I do think the proposed pure Beast units aren't a bad idea. When they are implemented, I think we will see good turnover. The new laws are being integrated well with much less pushback than was expected. New line- If more information about the alleged twin princes or concrete evidence of the rebellion comes to my hand, I will send it immediately by focused courier. Your obedient Staff Sergeant Ben Cuko, Smithport Barracks.” He leaned over the paper and nodded. “You’ve got a good hand. You should see about getting tested for specialist rank. Pity to put someone skilled in the spearlines.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Logan said blankly, cleaning his pen and putting it away. As soon as the ink dried, he folded it in neat thirds and passed it to Ben, who made the last fold and sealed it with wax, before passing it over to the courier. While he did that, Logan slipped a sheet of paper into his doublet. “If that will be all?” he asked politely. “My friend and I had some plans?” 

“I don’t need anything else right now, no. You’re dismissed. Come see me about that specialist training!” he gave Logan another pat, then sat down at his own desk, opening a ledger. Logan existed as quickly as possible before he was asked to help with anything else. 

Back in the courtyard, Roman had made more friends, having finished the mending. They were trying to teach him a dice game, and he was laughing. Logan found a bench and quickly jotted down the message that he’d just written for the Staff Sergeant. Some people were listening in, and looking thoughtful as Roman made careless seeming conversation, sharing gossip that he’d picked up- much of it from the back half of the broadsheet which loved to share rumors. More than that, he was listening to them when they talked, expression open and focused on what they were saying. Someone plopped down onto the bench with Logan. He folded up his paper and stuffed it and his pencil into his belt pouch. 

“You came in with sunshine over there?” this was one of the shirtless men. Logan could understand, it was just past noon and the port city was somewhat humid. He wore the same necklace they’d seen on the other squad, a chain with a medallion; this one with a protection charm and another charm that involved a tooth of some sort, with designs carved over the surface. Logan suddenly felt conspicuous with his lack of necklace- everyone he could see in the courtyard had the same chain. Their lack of uniform could be ignored, but that seemed more telling.

“Yes.”

“You friends?” 

“I suppose you could call it that.” He didn’t smile, but his eyes did drift over to Roman, who was shaking his head and laughing at something. 

“He’s a Reckless fellow, isn’t he?” 

“He can be, but he means well.” 

The soldier clicked his tongue with an unimpressed sound. “Means well. Good intentions can get you killed.”

“So we keep telling him.” 

There was another measuring silence. 

“Y’all should go at the next bell. A patrol squad’ll be coming off duty. They were down at the docks with the Beast Hearted the other day, and they’ve been crabby.” 

“Not now?” Logan asked, getting the impression they’d been ‘made’. 

“Nah. I want a chance to win a coin off him; he’s just not gettin’ the dice.”

“I’m fairly certain he’s never played it before.”

“What about you?” 

“I’m more of a darts player.”

“Can’t gamble on darts.” 

Logan smiled at that. “Are you sure?” 

“Suddenly… I’m not.” he laughed. “You know, my Ster always said the best way to judge a man is see what his mates are like.” 

“Oh, and have learned anything from talking to me?” 

“I think I may’ve. I wonder what I’d learn if I talked to more. He doesn’t seem a guile fellow, but you- if you played any closer to your chest, I’d reckon you’d be a prawn.” 

Logan stared at him for a moment puzzled by what that could possibly mean. 

“I’m from … the mountains.” he said after a long moment. Untrue, he’d never even seen a mountain in person before he’d been pulled into the tangle trap. “Is that a coastal expression?” That got a laugh. 

“Suppose it might be. My parents were fisher folk before they died, and I grew up a fishmonger’s pet.” 

“Pet?” 

“Ah- ‘prentice? Ward?” he wrinkled his nose. 

“Ah.” Logan looked embarrassed. “That does make more sense.”

“And Prawns have little legs all curled in tight. Protective. So a prawn’s a private fellow.” 

“That’s interesting. I can see that.” 

There was a noise in the outer courtyard, and even younger soldiers came in in a stream, some already stripping off their waistcoats and pulling at their collars. Not all of their shirts were the same, and some of them had the chains on the outside of their collars, disks bright and new. Many of them collapsed on the benches, and one ducked into the building opening up a long window, and passing bottles out to the others. There was a wave of greetings and whispers, as the two groups didn’t quite join up into a single mass. Logan was put in mind of lunch hour in a dining hall. Since the now open window was getting lined with small trays full of food, that might be a fair assessment. 

The man he’d been talking too went over to join in on the dice game. Logan watched the rippling crowd, noting that even as Roman was part of it, he has also a focal point. They were watching him. Logan wasn’t sure what to make of that. If he’d caught any hint of hostility, he wouldn’t have shied from making a less than subtle exit. But they were more like the looks of someone who thought they had spotted a celebrity. 

In the distance, he heard a bell ring, then in the cupola of the barracks, another answered. He got to his feet and grabbed a hold of Roman, interrupting a conversation on sword work. 

“It’s time.” he said and Roman sighed, breaking off the conversation, and waving as Logan pulled him through the archway and out of the gate, looking up and down the street before picking a direction. The wrong direction as he saw squads marching towards them. Instead of turning around, he dragged Roman into an alleyway and pressed him to a shallow doorway. Roman smiled at him, eyes bright, and pleased with himself. 

“I think that went well.” he said quietly. 

Roman had kissed Logan often enough, and Logan had kissed back. This time, however, Logan kissed him. Because they’d done a stupid, reckless thing, and gotten away with it. Because he liked Roman’s smile. Because Roman kissed back like he’d been given a precious present. Because even in the sticky humidity of Smithport, it felt more important suddenly to get as close as possible while he still could. 

Logan had no experience with it. But he thought he might know what a king looked like now. 

“I would very much like to go back to riding horses now.” Logan mumbled. Virgil patted his back soothingly. 

“Shut up.” Grumbled Janus beside him. “Just shut up.” 

“Considering the fine time Remus is having, you two sure are miserable.” Virgil seemed very amused. “Poor little dukey, no one to share his love of the ocean with.”

“The ocean is an eldritch devouring horror who conceals evils within itself and wants to eat my soul, Virgil.” Logan said nonsensically, swallowing hard. “And thus is trying to draw it out through my stomach.”

“Stop talking” Janus pressed his hands to his face. “I mean you’re not wrong, but stop.” 

“The stomach is one of the many places people thought the soul resided. I read that somewhere. It makes sense.” 

They had left Smithport by sea, on a trade vessel rather than a ship intended for transporting humans. When Janus had gotten slightly green as they left the harbor, Virgil hadn’t thought anything of it until Logan quite suddenly lost all ability to stand. He felt bad that he hadn’t noticed the ashy tint to the other man’s skin until then. He was concerned that this was some sort of curse, but everyone else was healthy as a horse. 

Remus had confided that Janus hated sea travel with a fiery passion because he would spend the entire time ill, no matter what he attempted to prevent it, and resented it deeply. Logan had never been out on the ocean before, mainly because deep water made him nervous, so he had had no way of knowing this was coming. 

There weren’t exactly a great deal of options, however, since the Mage’s Circle met on an island halfway around Sanders. Roman was having a wonderful time, and had adjusted immediately, so he and Remus were just barely skating by on being useful enough that the crew didn’t consider them nuisances. Virgil didn’t really have an opinion one way or the other, though he was kind of in agreement with Logan that the ocean was too damn big, so he was perfectly willing to stay below decks and occasionally empty out a bucket, coaxing them to drink water in slow sips so they didn’t dehydrate. 

It had been a thoroughly unpleasant few days, and the last time he’d ventured out on deck there had been nothing but ocean in every direction. Awe inspiring in the most terrifying way. Virgil was attempting to get them settled, because he doubted very much they were going to enjoy what was going to happen next- they were going to transfer from one ship to another while at sea, and frankly, Virgil was horrified at the idea himself. There were so many things that could go wrong. 

Logan heaved a few more times and lay back onto the pallet. 

“Virgil.” Janus mumbled. Virgil looked over at him. Janus had this way of pronouncing his name that got his attention every time; it was probably just a tonal thing. 

“What?” 

“Play something?” 

Logan hummed agreement. 

“My theatrics aside, you have a soothing voice, I would also appreciate it.” 

Virgil made an uncomfortable noise at that. 

“Or you could explain why you haven’t talked to Roman yet?” Logan looked at him out of the side of his eye, then closed his eyes against the rolling nausea. 

“You fight dirty, L.” he went and got his tambur as Janus chortled. It only took a few moments for him to get settled back into place beside them, and tune the instrument. Picking a song he played it in a slow lyrical fashion, singing along after an extended intro keeping his voice low and as smooth as possible. Logan drifted off first, his eyes already shut, pained wrinkles smoothing out. Janus blinked at him slowly a few times, making it almost all the way through the song before letting himself drift off. “~So shut your eyes, kiss me goodbye, and sleep. Just sleep~” Virgil noodled around with the tune for a little bit longer, bracing his back against a beam. He wasn’t sleeping, just resting a bit when he heard boots on the boards and opened his eyes. 

“If you wake them up I swear to God I’m eating your eyeballs.” He hissed. 

Remus snorted gently. 

“You’re a little late to try and seduce me, ‘coonie, I only have two arms.” 

“What is it?” 

“Schooner’s been sighted. We’ll be pulling abreast and should be making the transfer before dusk.” 

“Oh good, because the only thing I would have liked less is moving from one ship to another in the dark.”

“Shows what you know; it’s easier that way.”

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t. I don’t know anything about this nautical bullshit.” 

“Take my word for it then. Increased danger of merfolk, though.”

“I honestly cannot tell when you’re messing with me.” 

“And if I do it right, you never will!” Remus laughed but choked it down, glancing affectionately at the pallet before walking away a lot more quietly than he’d approached. 

Remus’s estimate was wrong, or something had happened because the sun had dipped below the horizon when Virgil felt a scraping jolt, and heard the sailors calls from up top. Somehow, Logan and Janus remained asleep. This was the most comfortable they’d looked since leaving the port. 

This time both the twins came down, and Virgil shrugged at them. 

“I don’t think they slept last night.” he offered. 

“This may take a couple trips then.” Roman said, and moved to scoop Logan up. Logan made a sound like he was starting to wake up, but instead just grabbed a hold of Roman. As he climbed back up the stairs with his new burden, Virgil heard a little laughter from the sailors. Remus meanwhile was checking Janus’s temperature before picking him up. 

“He doesn’t usually sleep this deep unless something’s wrong.” Remus muttered, pressing a kiss to the smaller man’s forehead. 

“Shuddup.” Mumbled Janus. Reassured, Remus carried him above decks as Virgil hastily bundled up the blankets. A couple sailors came down just as he finished.

“Their highnesses asked us to grab the luggage? I mean, the duke could probably go back and forth a few times, but-”

“Yeah, Roman’s never done anything like this before.” Virgil confirmed, picking up his own bags. “Thanks.” 

“Our pleasure. Nothing breakable in these?”

“No?” Virgil said, because he didn’t think there was. They nodded, and scooped up everything he wasn’t holding. He wrapped his arms around his instruments and trotted up on deck. There were masts visible to one side, and both ships had their sails furled, bobbing in darkness, lanterns lighting up the decks. Patton waved a hand at Virgil, his other resting on what looked like the gangplank they’d come up in port. His hand and the gangplank were both glowing a faint blue, which Virgil noticed as he approached. 

“What are you up to?” he asked. 

“Just locking the plank in place. They’ve got grapples on, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more secure.” He nodded at the plank. “All a board, Virgil. It’s safe enough.” 

“That, uh, ship is a lot smaller than I expected.”

“It’s fine, it’s fully crewed, and it’s designed for passengers. It’ll be a lot nicer. Not that this isn’t a lovely tall ship, but-”

“We aren’t meant for passengers.” The Captain had come up. “So if it’s all the same, it’s been an honor and a pleasure, but I’ll be a happier woman when I’ve passed this particular cargo off.” 

Virgil looked down the plank which was helpfully broken up with stripping for more secure footing, and made an uncertain noise. 

“It’s been a pleasure Captain Blaine.” He said, stepping up, and inching down to the first divide. He flinched as one of the sailors tossed one of the bags pretty much right past him. Now over the edge of the ship he could see the deck of the schooner, and the crew who caught the luggage but it didn’t make him any more comfortable. He gave a weak salute and continued his slow descent, one section at a time. Captain Blaine was a nice sort, and didn’t laugh at him, but some of her crew was less kind. With his eyes focused on the gangplank, he could see the narrow dark ribbon of water between the two ships. That only made him move more cautiously.

“C’mon Virge!” Called Roman encouragingly from the deck. “You can do it! Unless you wanna be carried over too- I can come get you?” He put a foot on the end of the gangplank. 

“Fuck no!” yelped Virgil, trying to move faster, but not managing as another bag went flying past, making him flinch. “Get your godamn foot off the plank.”

“It’s not going to move, Patton’s got it well anchored.” As if to prove his point he stomped on it, and Virgil gave an ungodly screech. The gangplank didn’t move but that wasn’t really the point. Sailors on both sides started laughing, but Roman backed up. 

Virgil continued to curse him out the rest of the way down the plank, much to the amusement of his audience. Roman stayed standing there, and he swung his first aid kit into his friend’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him as he opened his mouth. Virgil didn’t care if Roman was going to apologise or make a joke at that point. Roman just stepped back good naturedly, taking the bag. Behind him there was a rattling noise, and he turned to see the gangplank withdraw, and the rail get pegged back into place. 

“What about Patton?” he asked. 

“I’m fine, kiddo.” Patton called, waving from the tall ship’s deck. He grabbed a hold of a rope and swung out, making Virgil's heart jump into his throat as he slithered down it to land on the schooner’s deck. “I worked on some boats when I was younger.” He flexed an arm playfully as sailors tossed ropes over the side, and the ships bobbed free. Other sailors wielding long poles pushed off, and in moments there were yards between the two vessels. All around them people moved in a purposeful way. 

“They showed me our cabin when I came aboard with Logan. I know you’re not going to ask; but the ship’s name is Ravensflower.” 

“Ooh nice.” Patton said cheerfully. 

“That’s dark.” 

“Darker than you’d think even!” Patton offered. “Raven’s Flower is another common name for soulwort, which only grows in places where people have died. The outside of the flower is black, but the inside and the pollen is white.” 

“If I had to pick a name between Raven’s Flower and soulwarts, I know which one I’d pick.” Virgil grumbled. 

“It’s a pretty powerful magical flower.” 

“Swell.” As if on command, the boat’s motions became more pronounced. He lurched and Roman gently righted him. “How about that cabin, princey?” 

Ravensflower might have been a ship intended to carry passengers, but it wasn’t exactly a princess cruise either. The cabin held three bunks, the lower bunk of each slightly wider. Remus was perched on the edge of one of the bottom bunks, murmuring at Janus who was laying on top of the mattress and simple blanket, and speaking quietly back. The luggage the sailors had moved for them was piled neatly in the center of the room. 

“The captain apparently knows Remus; and offered his cabin up for us, but I thought staying together might be better.” Roman said apologetically. 

“You’re going to have to stop being joined at the dick sometime.” Remus said with amusement. 

“I’m not the one trying to stuff three people in one bunk.” Roman retorted. “I’ll have plenty of time not to be with my friends later I’m sure.” 

“Does anyone mind if I’m on top?” Patton asked. 

Remus snorted but shrugged. Janus muttered something about them being lucky if he was going to stand up, let alone climbing anywhere. When no one else said anything, Patton tossed his personal bedding up into the bunk and stowed his bag in the cabinet below the lower bunk before clambering up himself to inspect it. 

“So that’s it?” Virgil asked. “We’re just going to sleep? It barely got dark.” 

“We could have a sleepover party?” Patton suggested, leaning on the edge of the bunk. No one answered him and he made a sad face. 

“Salim runs a pretty tight crew. In the morning, they’ll be able to show us around.” Remus said “But for now it’s better that we stay out of the way. This isn’t a toy yacht. They’ll keep on through the night.” 

Virgil sat down on the edge of one of the lower bunks and sighed. It wasn’t that he wasn’t exhausted, but some nights he really missed the ability to just turn his brain off by browsing ridiculous memes until three in the morning. 

“I’ll take the top?” Roman offered. Virgil grunted, and got back to his feet, stowing not only his bags, but also Logan’s, since Logan was still sleeping pretty peacefully. 

“You must have been wrecked L.” Virgil said gently, tucking a blanket around him. 

“So how about those sleepover games?” Patton offered again. “I read about them, and it sounds like fun but I’ve never had a chance.” 

Roman snorted and shook his head. “It wouldn’t be as much fun without everyone, Pat. Some other time.”

“I’ll hold you to that!” he said cheerfully. 

They had been a solid week on the ocean when Logan felt capable enough to walk instead of stumble. He preferred to stay in the cabin, frankly, though once they were settled on the schooner, he made a point to step out onto the deck at least once a day to breathe fresh air. How long he lasted was hit or miss, because like Virgil the expanse of horison in every direction- very occasionally broken up with small islands- made him feel agoraphobic, a feeling he’d never encountered in himself before. Logan tried to be brave. He stared into the distance, where the sky met the water. He moved to the rail and stared down into the water. Sometimes fish swum past- once a pod of dolphins passed just as he was on deck. None of this made him feel any more secure in the gentle bounce of the boat. He ended up sleeping a great deal. His rest was free of nightmares at least.

“Hey L.” 

Logan felt as though he had just gotten to sleep when there was a gentle tap at his hand. Blurrily he blinked, seeing Virgil crouched next to his bunk. He wasn’t dressed for bed, so chances were he’d holed up elsewhere on the ship. The galley knives had never been sharper. 

“Is something the matter?” he asked. 

“Grab your glasses.” he said. “I have to show you something.” 

Logan considered. This was Virgil- Remus had dragged him on deck to show him a weird fish that he’d caught, urging him to touch it even as the smell made him rech, but Virgil wouldn’t do something like that. He grabbed his glasses in the dark, and took Virgil’s offered hand. 

“Close your eyes for a second.” Virgil prompted when they got to the door to the deck. Dulfuly Logan shut his eyes and allowed Virgil to lead him blind. The salt air struck his face, cool to the point of almost being cold. In the distance he could hear a quiet conversation between two crew men. His bare feet moved over the deck boards, but Virgil didn’t steer him wrong “Ok. Open them.” 

When Logan opened his eyes, the world was made of stars. Almost all the sails were furled, and the one that was up was only half filled, the ship moving slowly over an almost completely smooth ocean. There were no clouds in the sky. Virgil had brought them away from the watch lanterns which glowed faintly in his peripheral vision. Above them was what he might have identified as the milky way, only slightly off surrounded by billions of twinkling lights, shining down from the sky, and reflecting off the water. Logan’s heart felt like it was stopped from the beauty of it all. 

“This is incredible.” he breathed. 

“Heh.” Virgil had found a seat on a large coil of rope, and was just smiling at him. “Almost makes up for the horror that is the open ocean, huh?” 

“Does- do you come out on deck at night often?”

Virgil made an uncertain noise. “I don’t think we’ve been here long enough to make habits. But when I saw this I knew I had to show you. Even if you weren’t feeling well.” 

“Thank you.” Logan breathed, turning in a small circle again. 

“You wanna see something cool?” Virgil hopped off his seat and moved up next to Logan, pointing into the sky. “Look there- that group of stars looks like the pegasus constellation only backwards.” Squinting, Logan leaned back a bit trying to follow where Virgil’s finger was pointing. After a second Virgil took his hand again, and pointed Logan’s hand where he meant.

“... incredible.” he breathed, and looked around a bit more. “There- there are several groups of stars that look like ours mirrored- it’s disguised because there are so many more visible.” 

“I only know a few.” Virgil admitted. “I like finding patterns in the stars, but most of the shapes are so… vague it’s hard to remember.” 

“That’s true.” Logan admitted, and realised the Virgil was still pressed against him, hand cradling his wrist. “V?” he asked quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

He turned slightly, and then they were kissing. It wasn’t a solution to their problems, but it was nice. Logan had given up trying to justify it to himself. 

“Don’t miss the stars.” Virgil murmured softly, when they parted. 

“I’m not.” 

The Mage’s Circle had several centers of learning, and what might be called guild houses, if they were a guild, throughout Sanders and the neighboring kingdoms. However, The Crescent Island was one of their bigger headquarters. Ravensflower’s captain insisted they be on deck as they approached, and Patton had backed him up. Coming to Crescent Island for the first time was an incredible experience. 

For one thing, it was bigger than any of them expected; when they’d been told that they were going to see the Circle of Mages on their island of learning, Virgil, Logan and Roman had all been picturing something small- perhaps just off the coast. Roman had thought it might be a fortress of some sort- Logan picturing more of a school, and Virgil a prison. Instead after approaching a large green island with white sand beaches, they sailed into a bay through a narrow straight, the entrance marked with two small lighthouses perched on the cliffs. The architecture they’d seen so far in Sanders was mostly post and beam, accented with stacked and mortared stone- some brick work as well. Most walls were stucco or smooth plastered and the majority of the roofs were tiled. 

However, what ringed the caldera port of Crescent Island was like the cliff temples of the middle east combined with the columns and archways of Greece. 

“This is Themyscira.” Murmured Roman. He grabbed Virgil’s hand. “We’ve wandered onto the set of the next Clash of the Titans remake.” Despite the cliff walls that enclosed and created the city, they were faced with, the air was even more warm and humid than Smithport had been. On the stone docks they were approaching, they could see people were dressed differently, belted tunics or smocks. Most everyone had visible tattoos. Some had scars in places where a tattoo would be more natural. 

Around them the sailors furled the sails, and they watched the dock workers make the same sort of smooth gestures they’d gotten used to from Patton and occasionally Janus. As the ship was tethered to the pier, Logan noticed Janus’s hand twitch towards his face, then drop, fisting resolutely in the edge of his open robe. The gangplank was slid into place.

Salim, the captain of the ship stepped away, nodding to their second in command. 

“While I’m sure you know the way,” he said to Patton and Janus “Please allow me to accompany you up.” 

“If that’s what makes you horny.” Remus shrugged. 

“I am always glad to hot potato your ass into being someone else’s problem.” Salim told Remus, grinning back. “So try not to piss off the Circle this time, because you can fucking camp on the beach untill it’s time to head back to the mainland, I am not keeping you on the ship.”

“Oooh- Janus, can I skip out on ceremony and forage in tidepools?” Remus asked. “I’ll bring Logan, it’ll be hilarious.”

“No.” said Janus and Logan at the same time. They didn’t even blink. Salim laughed, and strode down the gangplank, having a brief conversation with someone holding a portfolio of some sort. Virgil shifted in place, adjusting the strap to his instrument case. When they found out where they were staying, they’d send back to the boat to get their baggage, but Virgil had seen enough that he wasn’t going to let anyone he didn’t know carry his instruments. 

“How long do we have to wait?” He asked. “Do we have to do paperwork?” he added as he watched Salim sign something, and then use an inked seal on the paper.

Patton laughed suddenly and shook his head. 

“Sorry.” he tapped the side of his neck awkwardly. “I spaced out for a minute there. No, you’re with us.” He nodded to Janus, who gave a thin smile. “And they’re familiar with Remus as well. Lupe brought you boys here before she retreated to Florida.” he added to Roman. 

“I’ve been here before?” Roman asked, still staring at the architecture. This close he could see carved and painted motifs on the buildings. 

“Well you were much younger.” Patton said, and started down the gangplank. “But then, so was I. When Lupe brought you she was supposed to be picking up an apprentice. Me!” he added cheerfully. “I’d just gotten my first Mark.” he sighed. “Things got complicated though. I’m afraid though that a kid who was ‘practically a teenager’ doesn’t really register much about toddlers.” 

“That’s cool.” Remus said strolling down beside Janus. “I don’t remember being a toddler either.” A couple of the dock hands glanced over at Janus’s face, then looked away quickly. 

“Not everyone here is a Marked Mage, are they?” Logan asked uncertainly.

“Not everyone.” Janus offered, as they walked down the pier towards a broad set of steps up to an arched colonnade. “Many have at least one Mark, but aren’t invested in craft, and some Mages who are bring their loved ones with them while they study. And there are many craftsmen who use purposed Marks who aren't mages at all. If you have time, there’s an outpost of glassworkers on the other side of the island from here, who are given purposed Marks that render them impervious to heat. They create some of the finest work in Sanders, but they are protected and supported by the Circle.” 

“People come here for specific magic work as well. Frankly, even before the usurpers rein, other craftspeople aren’t always willing to work with people who’ve gotten purposed Marks, so they’ll stay here.” Patton added. 

“Since Marked Mages have been being attacked and harassed on the mainland, many Mages have chosen to come back here.” Janus passed someone with thick bands of scar tissue around their biceps and wrists, and they nodded at eachother. “Some Scrubbed come here for shelter, if they don’t die of shock and blood loss. While witches have good healing magic, Marked Mages have better.” he paused, looking up the stairs. “And some hope for a solution.” Turning so the right side of his face was towards the group, he gave a smile. “And hoping for a solution from authority figures is so  _ very  _ effective.” 

A group of three people appeared at the top of the stairs. An old, stout woman with thin white hair pulled back from a tanned face by elaborate braids, a necklace like tattoo around her throat, a handsome middle aged man whose beard and brilliantly red-orange hair was liberally striped with gray, and a bored looking teen of uncertain gender, half of their black-brown hair shaved away to make room for an abstract tattoo . They didn’t come down the stairs to meet their group, but watched them approach. 

“Patton Foster.” said the old woman. “You’ve returned to us. We thought you were killed in your attempt.” 

“Nope! Had some trouble, but I actually made it to the adjacent world safe and sound. I couldn’t manage to message back; but I did complete my quest.” He turned a hand to where Roman stood, back straight and a little nervous looking next to Remus. Remus was grinning in a slightly manic fashion at the redheaded man, who was plainly fighting the urge to grin back. 

“And I see the bad news has also been found.” is what the man said. 

“I got stuck in a book. It was boring.” Remus said dismissively. “Pat may have found Roman but I found both of them. So who’s the real hero here?” 

“You understand how unlikely this all seems, of course?” the older woman told them harshly.

“I was pretty sure there’d be a testing period.” Patton nodded. “You can check Roman against Remus, and Remus against Russell of course.”

“Russell?” Roman asked, a bit confused. 

“It’s been a while, Roman. Hello.” the redheaded man stuck his hand out. He wore a shirt made of a nearly transparent fabric, rolled up to the elbows to display partial sleeve tattoos up his arms. “I’m your uncle Rusty.” 

Despite Virgil’s best efforts, they were separated into two groups. The three people who had met them led them deeper into the complex, and up a down right criminal amount of stone stairs, until they ended up in somewhat more normal looking rooms, softened with wooden furniture and tapestries. They’d ushered Remus and Roman into a side room with Patton, and shut the door in Virgil’s face when he went to follow. 

“Hey!” he said sharply. “Rude.” When he put his hand on the door knob, a hand with a key tattooed on it pressed to the door above it, and glowed.

“If you… gentlemen will make yourselves comfortable here?” the Mage who had barred his entry said. “I’m sure you understand that the Circle keeps its secrets.” 

“I understand Roman went in there with more people I don’t know than I do. I understand his life is in danger around here.” 

The mage smiled thinly. 

“I’m sure. Then you can understand you cannot enter.” 

Virgil hissed at him, and grabbed the doorknob anyway. This time the mage put hands on him, and he was suddenly yanked back as he made a knife appear. Logan could have done it himself, but Janus grabbed the arm with the knife, and wrapped his hand around Virgil’s. The mage raised his hand, fingertips glowing and reaching towards the apparent attack.

“I think you’d better find out how long this is likely to be.” Janus practically purred at the door guard. “You’d be surprised what Virgil is capable of in defense of the prince.” 

The guard started to move, then recentered himself in front of the door, and called another person in a similar tunic over. Virgil glared as Logan and Janus towed him over to a padded bench. Janus let go of Virgil’s hand, and the knife went back into its sheath.

“No one said anything about taking them away.” Virgil growled. Then he blinked and stared at Janus. “Wait, why the fuck are you out here with us?”

“While I am grateful for the help, as I doubt I would have been able to defuse the situation without you, I am likewise confused. Shouldn’t you have gone with the other mages?” 

The door guard huffed, and Janus sneered at him a moment, before looking back at them, tossing his hair over his shoulder, and tucking it behind his ruined ear. 

“I am very visibly Scrubbed.” he said, as though it explained it.

“But-” Logan started, and Janus twisted his hand at the wrist where it lay in his lap. Whatever else Logan was going to say died in his throat. He narrowed his eyes at Janus.

“Yes, I know I still have my natural Mark.” he tapped a finger against his ruined cheek, indicating the visible heterochromia. “But I’m afraid the Circle has ruled that I am no more than an exceptionally talented witch at this juncture.” 

Virgil’s eyes went over to the guard, and then to another mage who was copying some sort of paperwork at a desk on the far side of the room. 

“So what, we’re not magic, so we don’t get to see what kind of ‘tests’ they’re subjecting them to?” Virgil growled, still glaring at the guard, but with a little added annoyance at the dismissal of Janus. 

“I can tell you the most likely series; they’re not unsafe as tests go.” 

“I am afraid I am more concerned about the possibility of people finding out they are here who shouldn’t know.” Logan said, having found his voice again. 

“Too many people saw us arrive for true secrecy.” Janus said quietly. “Which works in both directions; people know we’re here, but they can’t make us disappear, either. But they’re likely to keep it close and cloistered for now. That was the Tripod; more or less leaders of the Circle of Mages. I don’t recognise the youngest; they must have recently replaced the previous non-gendered member.” 

“So they’re in charge of the Circle?” Logan asked. 

“Well they’re more figureheads. They make hard decisions for the safety of the Circle and Crescent Island. Alisabeth has been the female member for longer than I’ve been alive, and the twin’s uncle Russell was appointed about the time they were born.”

“I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around that.” Virgil shook his head. “I mean, Remus is well, Remus, you look at them and it’s pretty obvious. Roman’s got a stepbrother, but no one he’s actually related to. He’s got relatives here, it’s … wild.” 

“I hear there was a lot of contention, since their mother was queen of Sanders at the time, that they were giving one family too much power.” Janus leaned back against the wall, and crossed his legs at the knee, resting his hands on top of them. “

A girl in a sleeveless tunic came in with a basket over one arm. She was perhaps eight years old, and both the tunic and her hair were an eye searing pink. Trotting up to the desk, she held out a bracelet on her wrist, then put several folded and sealed pieces of paper on one box, and took others from another box. She waited as the mage at the desk finished and sealed something, putting it directly into her basket. She took several sly looks at the three of them while she waited. Virgil gave her a vague smile and a small wave. She jumped as if she hadn’t realised they’d notice and left with one more glance their way. 

“I’m kind of reassuring.” Virgil said after she left. He played with his bangs. “I mean this isn’t going to last forever, but I’m pretty used to it. So it’s neat to know people here dye their hair here too.” 

“Mostly just here.” Janus said. “It’s something apprentices do before receiving their initial Mark.” 

Virgil digested this for a moment. 

“So people think I’m an apprentice mage?” 

“Don’t be silly.” Janus said. “You’re too old to be an apprentice.” 

Roman spared a glance backwards as they were split into two groups. Patton smiled encouragingly, but Remus’s expression had gone unusually serious. 

“You seem sure, Russell.” the older woman said as they were led down another hallway. 

“Alisabeth, I know my idiot nephew. Both of them, I suppose, since they resonate on the same level.” He tossed a smile back at the twins. “I’m so relieved. Lupe was heartbroken she couldn’t get back, you know. I mean, I’m glad she got her act together by the time Remus was better; she worked so hard not to play favorites, but you know how it is, when one person needs more attention. I was sickly as a kid, and the eldest so-” He laid his hand on a door and it sprung open, revealing a workshop full of all sorts of specimen cases, and tall mill windows making up part of the slanted ceiling. “So did that boy toy of hers raise you? You’re being kind of quiet.”

“I’m… surprised.” Roman said quietly. 

“I haven’t changed that much have I?” Rusty covered the lower half of his face, as if hiding the beard to make himself look younger. “You don’t recognise me at all?” 

“I don’t-” Roman closed his eyes and tried to think back to his childhood. He remembered being on a sailboat before, but the idea that he’d been here, on this island before was hard to accept. “I don’t  _ remember  _ you at all.”

“Rusty, I know  _ you’re  _ sure, but I think Alisabeth would be more comfortable if you did a formal test? Just a skinch? I know I would be.” the teen said, speaking for the first time. Their voice would have been on the low end for a woman, or high for a young man. 

“Yes, yes, of course, you’re talking like I wasn’t planning on it.” He set up a braiser in the middle of the floor, that would probably hold less than a gallon. Roman watched as he wandered about the room, as the older woman- Alisabeth, apparently, took a seat, and the young person whose name he still didn’t know leaned against the wall. 

“Have…” they stared at him, and Roman kept going, “Have there been people pretending?” 

“Not recently.” Rusty admitted. “Ah here we are.” He pulled something out of a drawer, a few sticks of a certain wood and a shallow silver dish. “There were people who would bring out any green eyed red head of about the right age before the Council put that man on the throne. It’s slowed down considerably since. My favorite was the girl, about ten years ago. I wonder what happened to her.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes, apparently in memory. Rusty dropped the wood in the braiser and flicked his fingers at it, making fire blaze up then subside. “Let’s start with Remus, who looks like he’s been doing unmarked magic again, even though we keep telling him not to.” Reaching out, he plucked a few white hairs from the strip in Remus’s hair, and a few of the auburn for good measure.

“Hey, ow! Those are attached!” 

“Enjoy it while you can.” retorted the mage, running a hand over the top of his head. Now that he’d had his attention called to it, Roman could tell that he was thinning a little bit on the top of the head. He poured something from a bottle into the dish, and dropped Remus’s hairs into it; followed by a few of his own. “Hair is fine, right Alisabeth? We don’t have to go for actual blood.” 

“For now.” 

“Do we have any specialists in scrying or identification on Crescent at the moment?” the teen asked. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Rusty snorted.

“Yeah, your confidence is fine without my encouragement.” 

Roman was watching the dish curiously, waiting to see what would happen, half braced for the smell of burning hair. Instead, Rusty made a beckoning gesture at the desk and a sheet of paper flew over to him. Using tongs he picked up the dish from the braiser and poured the contents on the paper before folding it in half first one way, then the other. He passed the paper to Alisabeth. She unfolded it, as the younger mage leaned over her shoulder and they both nodded. 

“Can I see?” Roman asked, curious. The three mages stared at him, and Patton patted his arm. 

“The adjacent world- Florida- doesn’t use magic the same way we do,” he explained. “So Roman is still getting used to it again.” 

“Ah. I see. Well, it won’t change the result.” She turned the paper towards him, and Roman was a little disappointed to see lines and shapes painted in sepia tone converging in no pattern he could make out. The worst part was it almost looked like something, but even when he squinted he couldn’t make it out. 

“They can be difficult to interpret.” Alisabeth said dismissively. “A basic kin reading is much like divination that way.” 

“I’m going to need to clean this to set for the next one,” Rusty said, picking the dish up with the tongs again. “So you can verify Patton if you think it’s necessary.”

“Given the situation and it’s bizarre confluence, it is better to err on the side of caution.” 

“Mo-” Roman stopped when they looked at him, then started again, barreling through. “I remember Mom said the more complicated a coincidence was the less likely someone had planned it.” 

Alisabeth hummed in her throat thoughtfully, looking Roman up and down again, and refolded the paper. She turned her attention to Patton. 

“They do tattoos in Florida.” Patton started, and took off his robe, dropping it to the ground. “They’re only intended as decorative, but I’ve added to it; and have some really interesting information about investing Marks to boot!” When Roman realised that Patton was stripping his clothes off, he started to look away, then offered his hand out to hold his shirt instead. 

“Thanks!” Patton said brightly, and passed his shirt and belt over, leaving him bare from the waist up. He took a few steps towards Alisabeth, and spread his arms out, calmly standing in place. She ran her fingers over the vine tattoos, pressing here and there at one symbol or another. She frowned at the outline of a running wolf in the crook of his arm, prodding it several times before moving on. Patton gave a giggle as she traced over his ribs and stifled it as best he could when the teenager gave him a withering look. 

“Sorry. Ticklish.” he said, and turned his hand this way and that, showing the paw print on his palm. She squished at it a moment, then nodded. When she pulled back the edge of his waistband to peer at the tattoo there, Roman looked away. 

“You always were a show off.” She sniffed, and patted his cheek. 

“I like the way it looks.” Patton retorted. 

“It must have been something living there, for you to have gone so thoroughly gray so fast.” 

“I didn’t realise it at first, but there was a temporal distortion;” Patton explained as he reclaimed his shirt, leaving it unfastened. “But it was nearly complete when I arrived there.” 

“Hrm. And you unblocked the Cuts?”

“I can only verify one.” Patton’s face went serious. “But we need to talk about that before anything else.” 

“Nah, there’s one more thing that needs doing first.” the third mage fixed Roman with a very intense brown stare. 

“It’s ready.” Rusty offered. “If you could boys, a few hairs into the dish, plucked not cut.” 

“Would blood work better?” Roman asked, startling everyone. “It's just- I want there to be as little doubt as possible.” 

“We’re probably going to have to do this again with more witnesses, let’s start simple.” 

The short ritual ran the same way as it had before. However, when the paper was unfolded, instead of sepia tea stains, the marks were dark red brown, almost the color of their hair, and formed a distinct face. It wasn’t either of them- female for one thing- but Roman had the sudden realisation that the vague shapes from the first one had outlined the same face. 

“I can honestly say I didn’t think I’d see the day.” the youngest said, shaking their head. 

“Well, I suppose doubting Russell’s magic would be almost like doubting my own.” Alisabeth said with a sigh. “Despite his closeness to the issue.” 

The teen walked over, and offered a hand to Roman. 

“I’m Makenzie Leigh. I’m serving as the third of the Tripod.” they looked him over measuringly. “Do you think you’d be any good as a king?” 

“I don’t know.” Roman answered honestly. “It sounds pretty intimidating, not going to lie. But you know- not super into tormenting minorities, so I could clearly do worse.” 

Makenzie laughed, barely hiding it behind their hand. 

“Okay, yeah, sure. You’re alright.” They turned to Patton. “So, old guy. What’s so important?” 

Patton cleared his throat somewhat embarrassed. 

“There’s a traitor in the Circle.” he said. “Maybe not to the Circle itself. But definaty working against the rebellion.”

“I can see why you thought this was important.” Rusty said, taken aback. 

“How can you be sure-”

“No, that tracks.” Makenzie said, interrupting Alisabeth, who glared at them. “Look, due respect, you know we don’t all agree all the time, and there’s that fucked up faction who thinks that if we cooperate, the Scrubbing will stop. Not even seek revenge for those who were already scrubbed, just follow the king’s decrees.” 

“There are always people who are willing to give up freedom for peace.” 

“‘T hose who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety,’” Roman quoted. The mages stared at him for a long moment. “Sorry, it just reminded me of it.” 

“Yeah he does that.” Remus laughed. “He stands there looking like the original himbo, and then boom.” He mimicked an explosion with his hand “Wisdom.” 

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.” Roman retorted. He faced the Tripod. “If you don’t mind? My stepfather; the man my mother married in Florida was approached by someone named Dorian, who had a tattoo of a large brown cream and red moth across his collarbone, and hair died to match. He identified himself to my stepfather as a mage from Sanders, and offered him an opportunity to keep my mother in Florida forever.” the mages shifted in place, each clearly thinking. “He described what he was given as a music box. When he activated it, during a hurricane, I was still on the other side of the Cut. Patton?”

“I know that you didn’t have a lot of faith in our creating an artificial Cut given how tightly blocked the natural ones were.” Patton said seriously. “But Dorian was one of the mages who was working with me. He was also the last one I saw before I fell through our Cut. You can see how we’re suspicious.”

“We just want to talk.” Remus offered with an expression that promised otherwise. 

Dorian didn’t look like a conspirator. He was fairly ordinary looking in almost all respects. Physically he could be described as well, brown. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin. He was in his mid forties, if Roman had any guess, and wore cream and brown, the shirt open at the front half way down his chest, collar practically pointing to his Mark, which was an incredible piece of artistry. There was shading beneath the moth’s wings, and that made it look like the wings were fluttering while he breathed. Roman had only really seen him from a distance. There were a series of linked gazebos over a water garden. Not the place Roman would have picked for a confrontation or interrogation, but he supposed Mages would do things differently. They had been installed in one such gazebo, and Dorian had walked past on his way to the next one over. 

At least they were together again, not separated out. Remus had insisted that Janus be included in the observation, and that had dragged Virgil and Logan along. Logan was just curious and wanted to observe, and Virgil honestly felt that the mages were observing  _ him _ as much as anything else. He didn’t like it much. He perched on the railing of the gazebo and looked out over the garden, which was almost thick enough with plants that the water was barely visible between them. Between the plants, Virgil could make out gold and white scales flashing as fish swam lazily past. Logan came and stood next to him. 

“Apparently the water garden is related to waste water management.” He said idly. 

“Great place to dispose of a body then.” Virgil muttered.

“Not with the ocean so nearby. Patton indicated the interaction of the plants and water is what makes these preferred for private conversations.” 

“More magic.” 

“Most likely.” Logan said sourly. 

“I have to go speak with him,” Patton said, standing in the center of the gazebo. “I can set up the whisper gallery before I go so you can listen, but try not to talk too much, okay?” He twisted in place, making a tossing gesture at the roof of the gazebo. The flowering vines that twined the uprights vibrated slightly. Taking a deep breath, Patton strode down the wooden path. As he entered the other gazebo, Dorian turned. There was a beat.

“Foster!” Dorian said in shock. “You’re alright- you’re here!” 

“Surprise.” Patton offered. “I made it back. There was quite the resonance block on the cuts. It took a hint for me to even look for it.” 

“You’re very clever.” Dorian said quietly. “You always have been.”

“And you’re a hard worker.” Patton complimented him in return. “So I have to wonder.”

“What?”

“What did you get offered to trap the queen?” Patton asked. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, and I can’t come up with a good reason. I was clearly a sacrifice to stop the seeking, and I can get that.” 

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“Please.” Patton said firmly, his tone not upset, but disappointed. “Don’t lie to me. What did you hope to gain?” 

“I-” 

“If you’d  _ rather _ , I can get a full introspection on you. I thought you should have a chance first.”

“You cannot-” Dorian said firmly, jaw set. “You haven’t any proof.”

“I couldn’t find any remnants of the box, no.” Patton admitted. “I looked. But nearly twenty years in the woods destroys most things. It’s fortunate Roman had somewhere to go.” 

“I don’t have to listen to this; Welcome back Foster. Try telling stories to children.” He went to leave the gazebo, and Remus stepped in his way. 

“I dunno, I kinda wanna hear the end of this one first.” He grinned at the mage, who was several inches on him, but was skinny. Dorian stepped back. 

“The Duke is back.” Dorian breathed, and took several more steps back.

“It’s cool,” Remus made a patting motion in the air. “It’s so cool it’s positively chill, honestly, we don’t think you had anything to do with what happened to  _ me _ .” He gave a little laugh. “You can correct me if you wanna. I’m under strict instructions not to feed people to these fish.” 

Dorian just shook his head. 

“What did you hope to gain by betraying Lupe? Did she offend you?” 

Dorian pushed past Patton to the other entrance to the gazebo, and was stopped by Roman, just a bit out of breath because he’d dashed up the path, not being as good at hiding as his brother. Dorian looked between the twins. 

“It’s true.” he breathed. 

“What did you stand to gain?” Roman asked. 

“Power!” Dorian snapped. “If you’d all be gone, the council could put anyone they want on the throne. They were going to add a seat for magical input. It was going to be me.”

“Oh.” Patton sounded even more disappointed. “And have they kept their word? Have they given up any of their power to you? Or do you just keep giving them what they want, and getting nothing in return?” 

Dorian looked back and forth frantically. 

“It doesn’t matter now, you know.” Dorian told them. “They aren’t in charge. And Cadmus  _ does  _ keep his promises.” He swept his hands away from each other as if he was opening something, and the eyes on the moth’s wings lit up a brilliant crimson. The tattoo sprung from life-like to alive, diving from his skin. It multiplied and swarmed, each picked out in glowing red. Roman drew his sword holding it out protectively. The gazebo wasn’t that big 

Dorian clicked in his throat, and one grew larger, dropping down and transforming- wings growing dark and splitting, until a spider the size of a lap dog flung itself at Patton, who shrieked like a dying creature, flinging himself backwards against the wall of the gazebo. Roman had never seen Patton so terrified, and lunged forward, reaching out with his off hand, only to yank it back as the spider clicked it’s mandibles at him. 

He heard Remus swear and choke behind him. When Roman turned he was hit in the face with a huge velvety wing as an enormous moth flew right at his face. He might have shrieked himself. Not only were the moth’s wings hitting in solid blows, they left behind a residue, sticky like a spider’s web, the tiny legs poking and clawing at his face. He dropped his sword, trying to grab a hold and pull them off. Moths were fragile- they died at the slightest contact, but of course normally they weren’t the size of belligerent seagulls and swarming like angry wasps. 

“Now isn’t this something-” Something hit the floor hard, and Roman managed to tear the moth that was trying to smother him away in time to see Janus. 

“Get out of my way!” Snarled Dorian, and went to shove at Janus. Janus’s hand snapped up and batted the blow away, as another pair of wings started to swell from Dorian’s chest, and the dyed wings of hair on either side of his face rose up. 

“If you’re going to use illusions and phantoms, don’t do it to my boy.” Janus hissed, and transformed. The hiss drew out as his body twisted. Suddenly sinuous and shimmering, he lunged at Dorian, coiling around him and crushing his hands to his sides. 

“This isn’t real!” Screamed Dorian. “You’re scrubbed! Useless! Broken!” 

“Charming.” 

Roman kept trying to scrub his face clean, and suddenly noticed that the moths weren’t hitting so hard and were- translucent? 

What had Janus said? Illusions? 

But Remus was on the ground, unconscious. Janus did appear to be a snake though. There was scar tissue on the snake’s face. 

“Don’t you know? The snake survives.” 

Dorian choked, unable to draw a full breath and fell to the ground. Janus lifted his head and hissed at Roman. “Help your brother!” 

“Yessir!” Roman skittered across the boards without getting off his knees. Remus was breathing, but shallowly, his face was twisted up as though he was in terrible pain. Remus was covered with the now translucent moths, and Roman’s hand swiped through them, scattering dust as he tried to scrape them off. Remus coughed weakly and his breath wheezed in his throat, eyes twitching behind their lids. He glanced over at Patton, who was still pressed against the wall, and Janus who was human again, and panting as he was sitting on Dorian’s chest. 

A memory flickered across Roman’s mind. He was already cradling Remus in his arms. He pushed Remus’s bangs back, and kissed him on the forehead. All of the tension when out of Remus’s body at once, leaving him limp. 

“If I did that for no reason I’m going to-” Before Roman could finish the sentence, Remus sat up, knocking their skulls together. Both recoiled grabbing their heads. 

“Fucking  _ illusions _ !” Swore Remus. “Jan’s gonna give me so much shit.”

“You’d better believe it.” Janus snorted, sprawled over his victim. 

“You’re just lucky my phone doesn’t work here.” 

Roman looked past Janus to find Virgil standing at the entrance. 

“Oh shit did you see-”

“I absolutely did. It was so  _ sweet _ .” Despite the oncoming horror of the shit Virgil was doubtless going to give him, Roman couldn’t help but enjoy the grin his friend was giving him. 

“Oh goodness gracious.” Patton breathed. 

“Are you okay?” Roman asked, standing up and collecting his sword. 

“I’m still having trouble convincing my heart it wasn’t real.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “I am spi-terribly afraid of those things.” 

“It’s okay.” Roman kissed Patton on the forehead for good measure. He gave a weak laugh. 

“I wasn’t much good there, was I?” 

“I don’t think any of us expected that.” Roman offered, and pulled Patton to his feet. “Though we could have planned that better.” 

“Oh!” Patton stumbled over, kneeling next to Dorian as Remus gathered Janus up, finally getting him off his prisoner. The smaller mage was trembling all over as though he’d run a great distance or was in a great deal of pain, but was insisting he was fine. 

Patton yanked Dorian’s shirt open further, fully displaying the broad tattoo, and ran his fingers over it slowly, as if looking for something. After a moment he found it. In each of the eyespots, the small ones on the upper wings and the large ones there was a small patch of raised skin, a bump invisible to the eye, but present to the fingers. 

“Not many people can throw phantoms that involved.” Janus commented, watching from his seat on one of the gazebos benches- well, Remus was sitting on the bench, and Janus was sitting on Remus. He was still trembling violently, and Logan had come over, checking his pulse and temperature, despite Janus’s best efforts to wave him off. 

“I didn’t know he could.” Patton agreed. “I didn’t know him well, but I’d never seen anything like that before. But that might be because he couldn’t before. There’s something under his skin here.” 

Far too late to be helpful, the Tripod approached, flanked by guards. 

“A pity.” Alisabeth sighed, as they took Dorian into custody. 

“A  _ pity _ ?” snapped Roman and Remus at the same time. 

“Don’t worry, he will be punished for his involvement.” the older woman told them. She turned her eyes on Janus, who had drawn himself up into a facsimile of his normal posture. “What is it exactly that you did?” 

Janus tipped his face, turning the scarred side towards her, the scar from the saber making his smile look oddly large. “I have a little juice left in me, Elder. I’ve always been good at finding the truth and illusions. I couldn’t stand by while their highnesses were attacked.”

“Yes, your loyalty is well known.” 

Patton was explaining to Russell and Makenzie what he had found, gesturing with only slightly trembling hands. Makenzie looked thoughtful, glancing towards Dorian’s unconscious form. 

“I don’t think it needs saying that you need to find out if he was working alone, or with other mages. He was part of the Circle proper, after all.” 

“There are truth finders better than you in the Circle, Janus, and… in better condition to do so.” 

“I bow to your expertise then.” Janus said. “But watch him. The last thing we need is for a message to get out and for the usurper to know for certain where the princes are.” 

“Do not worry.” Everyone turned to where Dorian was held between two gaurds. The eyes on his tattoo blinked, once, twice, three times, and the mage's eyes slitted open, red from edge to edge with streaks of gold. “He already knows.” Dorian’s body jerked as three mages threw bind spells on him at once, and his eyes shut again. 

“Why am I here?” Virgil demanded under his breath to Janus. They were sitting at a table, Patton on Virgil’s other side. They had been there for almost an hour.

“I suppose we’ll find that out.” Janus folded his hands neatly on the table. “A witness perhaps.”

“I didn’t see what happened.” Virgil protested. “You’re quick as fuck when you want to be.”

“Thank you. That makes you exactly the kind of witness I need.” 

Virgil made a frustrated noise and rested his head on the table. Above his head, Patton and Janus held a conversation solely with eye movement and small gestures. At the end of it, Patton sighed, and nodded. He patted Virgil’s shoulders gently.

“It’s okay kiddo. You know I’d do anything to protect you. You’re a little gothy kitten and deserve it.” 

“Okay stop, that is not making me feel better. Wait is this because I hissed at that asshole when he was possessed? I feel like I’m being called to the principal’s office.” 

“I”m going to say the words, and I need you to listen, okay?” Patton left his hand resting between Virigl’s shoulder blades. “Breathe. You need to calm down.” 

Virgil growled automatically at the statements, but forced himself to breathe in slowly, filling his lungs as far as they could go. He sat up uncomfortably straight, the unfamiliar twinge of his muscles as he stopped slouching grounding him. He exhaled the deep breath equally slowly, blowing his bangs up out of his face, and using that texture and sensation to distract him as well. 

“Okay. I’m okay.”

“That’s right. Technically the Mages Circle has no hold on you, whatever you’re here for.” Patton said encouragingly. He didn’t say anything more as the door opened, and Makenzie came in with another mage they didn’t know, whose marks weren’t immediately visible. 

“Yo.” said the younger mage. “I wanna just tell you that you all aren’t technically in trouble.”

“I do not like that qualifier.” 

Makenzie laughed. 

“I do get it, but we’re cool.” they nodded to the black-clad mage beside them, who took out a small round bottomed bottle and set it on the table. In it were four small red cabochon gems, two large, two small. 

“These were embedded in Dorian’s tattoo.”

Janus leaned forward, peering at thim. “I don’t recognise the stone.” 

“That’s because it’s not actually a stone. It is a crystallized drop of dragon’s blood.” the black clad mage said. “It’s exceedingly rare in Sanders;” 

Janus snorted.

“Yes, you could put it that way. I’ve only read about it.” 

“Sometimes shards find their way down from the Cranny Mountains, but not like this. Perfectly formed. This was made purposefully.” 

“Don’t pussyfoot around.” Janus said, tapping a finger against the bottle and making it roll slightly. “You know Cadmus is a dragon. The Circle is the one that passed that information to the rebellion.”

“Not only that.” Patton said “Dorian mentioned Cadmus by name before he attacked. I don’t know what other kind of proof you need. Why was Dorian here, anyway? He did most of his work on the mainland, when I left.” 

There was a pause and the black clad mage and Makenzie looked at each other. 

“As more mages are attacked, Scrubbed or imprisoned for not following the kingdom guidelines for magic practice, mages are coming here for sanctuary.” Makenzie told them. “I’m not in favor of it myself, but anyone in the Circles has a right to come to Crescent. We can’t tell them no.” 

“So what’s it do?” Virgil asked. He had been staring at the gems intently. 

“Dragon’s blood is … powerful. Once a dragon gains sentience, they have access directly to the life stream of the planet. Ingesting it is said to give simple powers that a fae could grant- animal speech, water breathing, plant growth, near invulnerability. If it becomes crystal, it becomes a catalyst to increase the strength of magical ability.” 

“Huh. Imagine that. When he said Cadmus gave him power he was being literal.” Patton hrmmed thoughtfully. 

“And yet.” Makenzie focused on Janus. “A Scrubbed mage took him down.” 

“Scrubbed I may be, but I’ve been working with the resistance since before the usurper was put on the throne. Do you think my body is harmless?” He touched his cheek. “You can’t understand my loss. I imagine it’s like losing a limb.” 

“You could retire; another Mage could become the Duke’s Companion.” 

Virgil had never seen someone go so still.

“No.” 

“We wanted to ask about well, you.” picking up the bottle the mage stowed it away in a silk pouch and hung it from the long cord that wound around their waist, but they were looking at Virgil. “You’re not a mage; but you seem to be the crown prince’s companion? Are you apprenticed then?”

Virgil worked his jaw for a moment. 

“Look, I’m Romans friend. I don’t think you’re using the word ‘companion’ quite the way I’m hearing it.” he grimaced. “And who are you, exactly?”

“Oh-” they laughed. “I’m Daliha. My focus is artifice and healing.”

“And I forgot you were from an adjacent world; since Mages are banned from ruling human countries, royalty often have Mages that are close to them. Sometimes they’re childhood friends; the princes’ mother was a companion to the last king before they married.” 

“I can explain more later if you want.” Patton offered. 

“I’m still not sure what you’re implying, but I do know I’m not a mage.” Virgil drummed his fingers on the table. “Roman, Patton and Remus were fighting giant magic bugs- well I say fighting, Remus was swarmed and on the ground. I missed a lot of it, but I guess Janus just saw through the illusions and choked the guy out.” 

“Patton, what did you see?” Makenzie asked. 

“A very, very big spider.” Patton smiled weakly and rubbed the back of his neck, looking very embarrassed. “I mean, in retrospect, it was clearly an illusion and not a summoned familiar, but I couldn’t get it off, and it started to wrap my head in silk-”

“I realise you deal in other magics, Patton, but it was a phantom, not an illusion.” Janus corrected. “Phantoms draw on reactions for substance as well as getting it from their casters.” 

“What did you specialize in?” Virgil asked Janus curiously. 

“I have a natural talent for truth seeing.” Janus admitted, then smirked. “So of course I turned to the most deceitful magics. A master of making people see things that weren’t there, or not seeing things that were.” 

“Right.” Virgil tapped a beat on the table with his nail, then moved it to his thigh to make the noise less. He didn’t belong here. 

“Does the revolution still have the support of the Circle?” Janus asked. “Or is replacing me the cost of it?” 

“No, no, of course not.” Makenzie held up their hands. “Trust me, Janus the Circle as a whole needs the revolution to succeed.”

“If a dragon is empowering people for his personal agenda, we definitely do. Some people will do anything for power.” Dahlia said earnestly. 

“Also water is wet.” grumbled Virgil. To his surprise, Dahlia laughed, half hiding it behind their hand. 

“I retain enough use of magic to send messages.” Janus said smoothly, thumbing a line of scales still visible on his throat. “I will retain my place at the Duke’s side. Any mages who want to get more involved are welcome; but I can guarantee things are about to get more intense.” 

“What are they going to do with him?” Virgil asked, hands in his pockets. They had been released from the interview, and told where in the guest quarters they could find the others. 

“Well,  _ I _ may yet push him down a flight of stairs.” Janus said conversationally. 

“Therapy, possibly.” Patton offered. 

“It’s just- the tattoo means he can do the bigger magics, right? Are they going to take it away? Or is he going to stay a mage? Is he going to be executed? Who decides his punishment?”

“Yes, maybe, maybe, probably not, and the Circle of Mages.” Patton answered. “There are healing magics that can erase Marks, but they’re difficult, and understandably, Mages don’t like to think about them.” 

“Simple scarring won’t disrupt a Mark, for instance they probably cut the dragon’s blood out of his Mark- that wouldn’t Scrub him.” Janus explained. He was staring into the distance, eyes slightly glassy. “The majority of the skin needs to be disrupted. Scar tissue doesn’t conduct magic well, which is why scars are so hard to heal.” 

“You okay?” 

Janus turned and blinked at Virgil. 

“I… think I may fall over actually.” And he toppled before the last word was finished, fortunately into Virgil’s arms, face pressed to his shoulder. 

“Holy fuck.” Virgil swore. 

“Exhaustion.” Remus diagnosed. “Poor little honeysnake’s all worn out.” He kissed Janus’s forehead, which elicited no real reaction. They’d gotten him into bed before getting Remus’s attention. 

“That’s it?” Logan asked, concerned. “What Virgil and Patton described is quite distressing.” 

“I haven’t seen him do it this bad since we were teenagers, but yeah.” Remus nodded firmly. “He knows what his limits are but he doesn’t pay attention. First he used a bunch of magic, then he hid that he’d done it. He can… be real weird about appearances.” Remus stroked his fingertips tenderly over the scarred side of Janus’ face. 

“Things got a little weird.” Virgil agreed. “They thought he was teaching me magic.”

“You’d be a mean mage, coonie.” 

“I think you mean badass.” Roman retorted, leaning on the doorframe. “But neither world is ready for Virgil having that much power.”

“ _ Virgil _ isn’t ready for that.” Virgil mumbled, slouching, but he gave Roman cooked smile. 

“You’ll just have to protect me with your sharp knives and sharper words, little emo that could.” Roman teased. The confidence with which he said it made Virgil’s heart give a little lurch, so he sneered at him instead. 

“Could the mage’s circle make you leave him behind?” 

“They could  _ try _ .” Remus’s teeth looked sharp. “Nah, They could assign another mage to watch over me, same as they could assign a mage to watch Roman’s back, but it wouldn’t have the same effect. Without a two way bond it’s less an arranged marriage and more a babysitter.” 

“Tell Janus I’ll be sure-pent to keep his secrets,” Patton said. “But I think I should listen in on the debates. They’re going to go on.” He made a face. “Mages tend to be opinionated and they all want to be heard, on important topics. Honestly, I’m kind of jealous he gets to sleep through it.” 

“Will you be okay?” Roman asked. “What if someone else has taken the usurper’s side?” 

“I think at this point they’d be crazy to admit it, Roman.” Patton shook his head. “And if it gets discovered during the debate, well, better we know as soon as possible.” He moved to go, but stopped and rested a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “I’m with you, if nothing else. I don’t need to be your assigned companion to act as it.” 

Patton was correct in that they didn’t have much to do over the next few days. They caught rumors of the debates from the servants who came and brought them meals, and if requested, give them directions if they wanted to explore the city, or the estate-like complex of buildings they’d been housed in. They were guests of the Mage’s Circle and so had been given rooms in the Circle’s Center- one part bureaucracy office, one part school and perhaps a little bit grander than it strictly needed to be. Mages after all could be real showoffs.

Hearing this Logan immediately sought out a library, and found an exceptionally dry book on the founding and organization of the Mage’s Circle. The library also contained several books that he could not open. One of the librarians explained that they could only be opened by mages, to keep the information safe. 

Remus and Roman practiced against each other in a courtyard, attracting the attention of some rowdy students who joined them. The students mainly got beaten but with a good temper, happy to learn more about fighting and work some of their energy off. 

Janus slept through a full day- dusk to dawn and then until dusk again, when he woke ravenously hungry in time to join them for dinner. Patton had returned from the Circle session to join then, and hearing what was going Janus had crankily told him that he was still asleep. Nothing he could add was going to change the long winded discussion. Patton had tried to urge him to at least put in an appearance so he could add the information he had on the revolution; but Janus refused. There were scrubbed mages coming in and saying their pieces about the situation, but not really taking place in the debates. There were other mages involved in other places in the revolution. 

Virgil chose to learn about the city and complex. While other parts of the island were settled, the city was clearly the center. It was full of non mages and minor mages, craftspeople, fishermen, market farmers, families, the same mix of people that any city had. 

There were three basic ways one could enter or leave the city, Virgil found when he went looking. First, by boat. The harbor was the biggest on Crescent Island and well tended; there was perhaps one or two other moorings that wouldn’t require anchoring offshore and taking boats in. Second, one could climb through a warren of tunnels and exposed stairs to the top of the cliff- according to rumors there were a few paths that made the connection, but most people took the main one, because it was the least likely to get them lost. Logan had excitedly told him that people had been settled here and digging out tunnels in the cliffs for over five hundred years, and sometimes tunnels with no records were found when someone went to dig out a new home. Lastly, there was a sort of cargo elevator on the other side of the city from the Circle’s Center. It was operated by a very large wheel and pulley system, and brought goods and brave people up and down the cliff in a straight shot, hauled by large creaking cables in a sturdy caged platform. 

Virgil tried not to feel trapped. If for some reason the Mages decided not to let them go- they wouldn’t have much chance of escape; and that was totally aside from the fact that if they got off the island they would have no idea how to get back to the mainland even if they had a boat and knew how to work it. The fact that Remus and Patton probably knew at least a little was somehow reassuring. In the meantime, all they could do was wait. 

Rain had settled in over Crescent Island, a steady, thrumming beat, curtains sweeping over steps and occasional down bursts making the lower levels look like waterfalls. There were plenty of gutters and channels that kept the streets from actually flooding, gathering the rainwater in deep freshwater cisterns, and letting the rest run off into the harbor. The discussion went on; mages gathered and somewhat sequestered in a large lecture hall, where they took turns lecturing each other. Patton jokingly said it was a good thing that there were still Mages on the mainland who wouldn’t be able to give their opinions as well- beyond sending messages to their friends and allies to be read out in discussion. Remus insisted the name for a group of Mages was ‘an argument’ and Janus backed him up. Patton laughed, but didn’t provide an alternative, so he might have agreed.

The walls were generally thick enough that sitting on a windowsill was hardly a daunting prospect, and this window in particular, had a window-seat like niche set up in it, allowing Logan to read in the blue-grey light of the rain that came through the window without having to activate a lamp. 

To his surprise the crystal lamps from the tangle trap were also present in Sanders, a useful sort of thing- much like the similarities in dress. While the food on Crescent Island- at least in the Mages’ enclave featured more fish then there had been on the mainland, many of the dishes were also spiced the same. It gave him an eerie sense of stability. He was reading a book on fae magic and behavior when Roman came into the room, having been gone all morning. He sighed, and turned to glare at the window, arrested by finding Logan there. The glare instantly turned into a smile, sweet and charming- and no small bit fond- rather than sunny. 

“Logan! I didn’t expect you to be there.”

“Clearly.” Logan was amused. “How did your chance to speak go?” 

“Like a dog at a show.” He flung himself into the other side of the window seat and started unbuttoning his doublet. “They asked, I spoke. They cast spells, I answered questions. Got to see an interesting thing called a ‘pasview’ where they pulled scenes out of my memory- my subconscious memory, mind, not things I personally remembered, but it did seem to calm a few doubters.” He sighed, pulling the jacket off and threw it across the room where it more or less landed on a chair. Like Sanders, tables and chairs were for working and eating and almost all relaxing took place in what Virgil had dubbed ‘pillow pits’, groupings of cushions of various types on plush, padded rugs. Light wasn’t the only reason Logan had chosen to read in the window seat, finding it much closer to a comfortable chair or couch than anything else. 

“Patton said what he heard was pretty hopeful that they’d come to a consensus soon, and my speaking to them helped.” He made a face and flung his head dramatically against the wall. “I had hoped to make a dramatic, inspiring speech and have them roaring with approval and coming to an immediate conclusion but I didn’t really get a chance to try.” 

“Given your audience I doubt it would have worked anyway.” Logan told him. 

“Boo.” Roman pouted a little bit. Logan manfully resisted the urge to laugh at that expression. “Eh, you’re probably right.” He stared out the window at the rain for a while, then stood up, stretching. “I take it Virgil went off with Remus and Janus?”

“Just after you left this morning. I didn’t particularly feel like taking a walk through ‘historic catacombs’, so I stayed here.”

“Oh man.” Roman looked a little disappointed. “I bet they’re like the ones in Paris. I’m sorry I missed that.” he made a rude noise. “It’s too early for the burden of the crown, isn’t it?” 

“I’m not sure, overall the architecture is more like Greece or Crete here, with a slightly Oriental flavor, so I’m not sure if they would be.” 

“‘Oriental’” Roman snorted. 

“Yes, I already regret that descriptor.” Logan grimaced slightly. “But in answer to your actual question, I think the burden of the crown would start when you accept it and accept that your wants are secondary to the needs of your country.” 

Roman stared at him long enough that Logan began to feel awkward. Before Logan could attempt to backpedal, Roman stepped up and took one of Logan’s hands off the book in his lap, raising it to his lips, and gently grazing the back of his hand with a kiss. 

“Now you see,” he murmured, looking into Logan’s eyes. “I was going to run my sword drills in the hopes to gain your attention, but then you… how can I not want to simply kiss you, again and again, as often as you’d let me.” 

“Oh.” Logan said softly. He cleared his throat. “I realise our relationship, such as it is, is somewhat nonstandard-” An odd way to say he was more-or-less dating both twins and they both knew about it and accepted it. He was absolutely sure he’d seen them arm wrestling over who got to invite him to sleep in their bed, which was bizarre, and vaguely endearing, which is not something he’d ever considered before. And when Logan had confessed to kissing Virgil, Roman’s expression had been unreadable for a long moment, then admitted he didn’t know who to high-five on that one. (Logan wondered if he also didn’t know who to be jealous of.) Nonstandard model, indeed. “But you don’t have to lure me into kisses. Asking directly would be acceptable.” 

“But flirting is fun.” Roman retorted. “And it makes things clear, sometimes I’m not sure when we’re just friends, and when we’re-” what were they anyway? He kissed the back of Logan’s hand again, then turned it between his and kissed the palm. 

“I don’t think one precludes the other.” Logan managed, his pulse going crazy, which Roman didn’t help by laying another kiss on the soft skin of his wrist. Logan curled his fingers around Roman’s cheek and pulled him up so he could kiss him. He set the book aside so he could use both hands to hold him and make sure that he did it properly. Roman certainly seemed to think he was as he leaned in, and murmured compliments between kisses, first leaning on the wall behind Logan, then hitching close on the edge of the window seat. At Logan’s prompting pulls to get closer still, he gave up and straddled Logan’s lap, pressing him into the wall, arms sliding around him to pad his shoulder blades from the stone wall. Logan took the opportunity to destroy Roman’s ponytail, carding his fingers through soft hair. He pulled back just a bit, and licked his lips. 

“Would you- can we-” He glanced over his shoulders at the pillow pit, and Logan blinked, willing blood back to his brain. Given that most of their makeout sessions happened after dark, in bed, lying down didn’t seem unreasonable. Having a lap full of Roman was pleasant, but liable to make his legs fall asleep. 

“We would scandalize your brother when he gets back.” Logan murmured, stealing another kiss. 

“Nothing can scandalize my brother.” Roman retorted, and tipped his head to draw kisses down Logan’s neck. “But it is a little early to take you to bed, even if the intent is to just… snuggle.” he nibbled gently on Logan’s ear, which made him huff with laughter.

“Snuggling? Is that what we’re doing?” 

“Snuggling. Cuddling. Snogging. Making out? No, making love?” Roman punctuated his suggestions with more kisses down Logan’s neck, relentlessly and gently assaulting him. 

“Macking? Sucking face? Tongue wrestling?” Logan countered, amused. 

“Necking? Canoodling?” 

“Canoodling? Seriously?” 

“Well how about a kayak, then?” that made both of them laugh. Roman leaned in to murmur in Logan’s ear. “Those are the ones that roll around.” he kissed Logan’s neck again, right below his ear. 

They did end up moving to the cushions, and Roman’s neck developed interesting bruises, but Logan couldn’t help but wonder if he qualified as moronsexual and Virgil was just an outlier, because even lying warm and comfortable in Roman’s arms, he still smiled when Remus entered with Virgil and Janus without even thinking about it. They hadn’t really been making out or any synonym for a while by that point, just relaxing. Logan had been turning the phrase ‘kissing one’s brains out’ over in his head, but hadn’t quite decided how he felt about it. 

Virgil sat on the edge of the pit and took his boots off before collapsing backwards into it next to Roman, but Remus was far less polite in plopping down on Logan's other side. Roman shoved Virgil’s feet away from his face and dropped his arm over his friend's legs to keep them away. 

“How were the catacombs?” 

“Full of dead things.” 

“As all good catacombs should be.” Remus contributed, and kissed Logan’s cheek. “Also some neat carvings.” 

“Careful-” Roman grumbled, glaring at Remus “We had that talk.” Remus made a rude sound. 

“‘It’s not incest if we’re not in the bed at the same time’ doesn’t count for cuddles, the same way it doesn’t count for bathing!” 

“ _ What _ ?” Logan choked, sitting upright. 

“Ooh boy.” Virgil mumbled.

“Okay, in my defense, we had the talk drunk.” Roman mumbled, looking away. 

“This is not getting any better.” 

“Look, Ro was the one being weird about it, I don’t fucking care, I’m not fucking him.”

“You miserable piece of mildewed melon.” Roman sneered playfully. 

“You’re so sweet.” Remus stuck his tongue out. 

“If you don’t get to the facts, I think Logan is going to explode.” Janus said mildly from the side where he was making drinks on a small braiser. “ _ I _ like him better in one peice.” 

“I just think it’s messed up that you and I knew it happened and Logan didn’t.” Virgil rose up on his elbows so he could look at Janus. 

“So the thing is;” Roman started weakly. “It was mostly me, I think. I was crushing on you so long but my brain kept tripping over well…” he gestured at Remus who had apparently just realised he could take his boots off for added comfort. “You were already sort-of-dating my brother, but you didn’t seem to care, and he didn’t seem to care, so I managed not to care, mostly.” 

“We both agreed it would be wrong to  _ fight  _ over you, and just as wrong to demand you like, pick if you didn’t want to.” 

“To be fair.” Roman admitted sheepishly. “We were getting pretty snarky about it when we came to that conclusion.”

“And this led to the worst possible permutation of ‘it’s not gay if the balls don’t touch’  _ how _ ?”

“That’s a weird thing to say.” Remus mumbled, distracted. “Most of the funnest gay stuff doesn’t invovle the balls touching nessecerily. What if you put them in a bag? Ball armor-”

“That's not the point!” Roman swatted at his brother. 

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think about this objectively. 

“I appreciate that you didn’t wish to decide anything about this relationship- or any of my relationships for that matter without involving me, and that you recognised demanding a choice or treating me as a prize was inappropriate.”

“If you’re not a prize, can we call you a treat?” Remus broke in. “A fucking delight?”

“Sweetheart?” Roman couldn’t help but join in. 

“I think he’s about two steps from being called ‘done with your shit’ so maybe let the man talk.” Virgil pointed out, lying back down. 

“Thank you Virgil, at this precise moment, you’re my favorite.” 

Virgil chuckled triumphantly, and Logan resumed putting his thoughts in order. 

“We were just trying to decide on limits.” Roman said awkwardly. 

“And anything was going to be arbitrary, so we leaned into it.” Remus shrugged. 

“Well, let me ask you this, what if we were all in a bed at once? Including, say, Virgil and Janus- and for the sake of argument, Patton.” 

“That’d be a pretty big bed.” Virgil pointed out. 

Logan gestured around the pillow pit. 

“That  _ is  _ what sparked this conversation.” Janus observed, returning to the cushions with a tray of cups. 

“What’s your take on this?” Logan asked. 

“Hrm. Frankly I think you’re rather forgiving in being able to put up with both their shenanigans.” He handed a cup to Virgil who had to rearrange himself so he was upright enough to drink, and went on handing drinks to the twins as well. “Not that you aren’t a  _ delight _ , Roman, but I have a clear favorite.” Remus grinned and kissed Janus’s cheek. “Frankly it seems much more like they’re limiting themselves. If they weren’t related, they would have every bit as much right to say they weren’t in a relationship with each other, which is basically what they’re saying.”

Logan took the tray with the last cups on it as Janus settled down, and traded it back, keeping a cup and kissing Janus’s cheek as he leaned over to take it, making the mage laugh a bit and Remus grin.

“I kiss who I want.” Logan defended. “Since there is no actual fucking going on that seems like a safe thing to say.”

“Oh, that’s not completely true.” Remus’s grin got bigger, side eyeing Janus. 

“It could be any time.” Janus retorted, eyes narrow. 

“It’s funny how you think that’s true.” he leaned his head on Janus’s shoulder. 

“Okay, realistically there’s nothing wrong with Patton being included in the cuddle pile, but it still makes me feel weird.” Roman admitted. 

“He’s objectively hot.” Janus countered. 

“So’s  _ Remus _ .”

“I’d be more flattered if we weren't almost identical.” Remus retorted. “So narcissism, much?”

“Asshole.” 

“Janus you know more about the subject than I do; is this configuration unusual?”

“Less than you’d think;” Janus shrugged. “Neither of us really pursued other love interests despite the option being open. Occasional flings, but not dedicated others. However, Sanders is more open to it in the first place which may be what you mean.”

“How polyamory actually works is very rarely discussed by anyone not in a relationship like that.” Logan admitted. “Having never really been in a relationship that lasted as long as this at all before, I don’t have a great deal of functional experience, polyfidelitous or otherwise, and I hadn’t considered it in relation to myself before. ” 

“Oh, I like that word better.” Roman said. 

“You just like commitment.” Virgil teased. 

“I don’t see a problem with this.” 

“But it’s not unusual for a poly relationship to have two people who aren’t involved with each other. It’s less of a closed shape than a series of connected lines.”

“The molecule system.” Logan considered, “Polycute, I think.” Virgil raised an eyebrow at him and he coughed. “I may have done some Googling before we left.” 

“Love ‘v’ not triangle I guess.” Roman said thoughtfully. “Still less obnoxious than the standard hetro ‘torn between two boys’ trope.” 

“Love V you say?” Logan said, just in time to make Virgil choke on his drink.

“He’s gone mad with power.” he coughed. “Kissing all the boys.” 

“As long as I don’t ‘make them cry’ I fail to see an issue. I’m just being efficient and having all the boyfriends at once rather than serialy. At any rate-” He scooted back into a half reclined position between Roman and Remus “Better keep them separated so they don’t ‘catch cooties’” 

“Is that a venereal disease, because I’m clean and would rather stay that way.” 

“I honestly cannot tell when you’re messing with me, Mess.” Roman groaned. 

“Then I am doing it right.” He yawned and finished his drink. “Anyway, this whole conversation was Ro’s fault for getting weird when I kissed Lo, so-” 

“Alright, alright-” Roman capitulated. “They call it ‘brothers’ when two guys sleep with the same girl anyway, so what the hell. My life can’t get any weirder.”

“Oh don’t challenge it.” Virgil groaned. “Murphy’s law exists in all planes of existence.” Roman reached down and pet at his hair soothingly until Virgil swatted his hand away. 

“They what? Are  _ all  _ hetrosexuals disgusting or is it just the ones in Florida?” Janus demanded.

“You are asking the wrong group of people.” 

“Roman!” Patton called, practically running into the room. Roman made a noise not unlike a cat that had suddenly been awoken, and half sat up, hampered by Logan on his arm and Virgil’s head which had migrated to his thigh. 

Okay, cuddling in a big pile was pretty awesome, actually, and he can’t believe that he’d missed out on it for so long. 

“Oh good! Everyone’s here.” Patton dropped down on a cushion at the edge of the rug. “Roman, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it; it worked.”

“What worked?” Roman asked, a little confused. 

“You talking to the Circle!” Patton said, eyes bright. “They reached a conclusion!” 

“In an afternoon?” Janus peered at Patton suspiciously, closing his brown eye briefly, before blinking more awake. An afternoon was perhaps a bit generous, it was fully dark outside the window, though it sounded as though the rain hadn’t stopped. “We need to check Roman for a rogue talent.” 

“They aren’t that bad-” Patton started “Okay, yes they are, but they have reasons. I think most of them already had made up their minds, they just needed reassurement.” 

“Patton, I don’t know why there was ever a question.” Janus grumbled, but shook off Remus’s shoulder to sit up more fully. “They hardly needed a full quorum.” 

“I’d rather they were sure.” Roman said quietly. “People may die.” 

“People are dying now.” Janus hissed. “ _ Their _ people.”

“Shh.” Murmured Remus soothingly, hooking his arm back around him. 

“No.” Grumbled Janus. “They sit here, and conveniently forget they’re supposed to offer aid to all Marked Mages, while they’re getting tortured, unless they manage to make it to someone who happens to care. Who can do something. It’s disgraceful.” 

“You did your best.” Remus murmured, and Janus scowled. 

“So we have their support?” Roman asked Patton, who nodded. 

“Officially and publicly. The Circle of Mages recognises you as the Crown Prince, and will support your bid for the crown.” Patton smiled. “And for the record? I think the fact it was  _ you  _ mattered a lot.” 

“Yeah, what if you’d been like me?” Remus asked. “Nightmare scenario there, time to kiss up to the dragon.” 

“Remus.” Roman said, admonishingly.

“Dude, they’ve been dealing with me for twenty years, that’s a danger.” 

Roman frowned a little more; yeah, Remus was difficult to deal with, given his purposefully abrasive style and tendency not to think before he spoke. But the way he dismissed himself from any situation was somewhat concerning.

In the end, Roman never got to see the catacombs or even the glass blowing enclave on Limecliff Isle on the other side of Crescent. Apparently, despite the fact they demanded plenty of time to deliberate, once the Circle came to their decision, things moved fast. 

Part of that was that they hadn’t supposed to have been in the catacombs in the first place, something neither Remus nor Janus had mentioned when they’d purposed the trip. 

The rest of it was simply that they did expect the world to move faster than they did. It had been perhaps two weeks since they arrived in the port when they found themselves back on The Ravensflower. Salim only asked cheekily if Remus was banned again, and seemed surprised the entire group was leaving. 

“I’ll be honest, I thought I was going to get a chance to do an interim voyage while you all waited here.” Salim said as he watched bundles of spellgoods being carried onto the ship. “I was just waiting until I had to take the Duke away with me.” 

“Do you get banned from Crescent often?” Roman asked, amused. 

“More than anyone else in history.” Janus retorted, rolling his eyes. “But they’re all very small bans, so it’s not a big deal. And usually it’s just the enclave, not the whole city.” 

“Sometimes I even do it on purpose.” Remus admitted. “Mom would come here, like, once a year, and I’d come with her. I mean, the city isn’t bad but… not really my thing. Better to go out onto the open sea and fish something interesting up.” 

Salim shuddered.

“What are you complaining about?” Remus demanded. “You got a great story out of it.” 

“What happened?” Roman asked, curious. 

“My father gave me my first ship, and had me take the old queen and her son as passengers to earn it; I’d been mating on his ship since I was fifteen and stopped being a cabin boy on his friend’s.” Salim explained, giving a bit of context. “So when the dowager queen was sticking around on Crescent for a month, I got bored, and when Remus said ‘let’s go deep fishing’ I said ‘sure’. You know, like an idiot. Nothing he does is normal. My first ship was smaller; it took very little crew, so it was mostly just us and a couple of others.” 

“So I might have used a bit of the magic I’d learned to bait a hook and strengthen the line to see what would happen.”

“You fished up a kraken!”

“I don’t know, does it really count as a kraken if it’s only barely bigger than the boat?” 

Salim stared at him.

“Yes. Yes it does.” 

Roman started laughing and the captain went on. 

“Rather than cutting his line, like a sane person, Remus decided the rational thing to do was to punch the giant squid in the eye.” 

“I thought it was like bears.”

“No, you back away slowly for bears.” Virgil said, confused. “Make noise, scare them away.” 

“Sharks? Aren’t you supposed to punch sharks in the nose?” Remus asked, looking around. 

“That sounds like a fucking terrible idea.” Virgil mumbled. “That’s where the  _ teeth  _ are.” 

Logan was looking at the ship, looking at some of the other, smaller ships in the harbor, and doing some thinking. 

“You fished up a giant squid and got into a fight with it?” 

“This one gets you, Remus.” Salim rolled his eyes. 

“We won! It was epic.” Remus nodded.

Logan nodded thoughtfully. “Normally I object to people describing actions as epic, but I think in this case you are correct.” 

“Everyone was very impressed when we hauled the body in, I’ll give you that.” The captain shook his head. 

“They were both maybe twenty at the time.” Janus reported. “Fortunately, while the potion makers appreciated the influx of materials, and the lower city feasted on calamari, everyone else was too smart to try and recreate the feat.” 

“So whatI’m hearing is I should do it again, and get a bigger one.” Remus suggested playfully. 

“Depths take you.” Groaned Salim. “You’ll be in the same cabin.” That said, he walked over towards the bow of the ship where a mage was carefully adding a sigil next to the name of the ship. 

“You’ve known him for a while?” Roman asked, watching him go. 

“He’s a privateer.” Remus explained, putting an arm around Janus as the other man glared out the strait to the ocean. “Not a merchant or anything, he attacks messenger ships sent by the king and stuff like that for the most part, and moves people around. The Ravensflower is a very fast, stealthy ship.” He pointed at the masts. “You can’t tell with the sails furled, but it has an impressive ability to catch the wind and use it to move in ways most ships can’t.”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell if it was actively  _ doing  _ it, Remus.” Roman pointed out. 

“Right, you’ve got like no practical knowledge. Anyway; you see the sigil they’re painting on the bow? That’s going to basically make the Ravensflower a blindspot, magically speaking. That kind of thing costs a penny so pretty it puts Jan to shame.”

“Stop.” 

“And at that quality? He never would have earned the hire.” Remus looked at it admiringly. 

“Is the magic in the paint, the technique, the design itself or the intent?” Roman asked, watching the mage work. 

“Uhm. Yes, I think.” Remus replied. “I know there’s blood in some of it. But there’s no way I could do something that good, so I don’t really know how it works, just that it does.” 

Roman sighed quietly. 

“And that’s another thing I wish I could have spent more time on.” he grumbled. “I could really stand to know more about how magic works.” 

“Well if that’s what you want I can tell you more.” Patton offered. “If we manage to hit a smooth spot while we’re sailing, Janus can help me!” 

“Once when we were younger, Janus tried a spell so he’d hybernate through the sea voyage, so he wouldn’t have to deal with being seasick.” Remus mentioned. Janus pinched him sharply, but Remus didn’t move away.

“What happened?” 

“I’d rather not talk about it.” 

“It worked, but he ended up puking for like an hour straight after he woke up.” Remus supplied, wincing as Janus punched him in the ribs and ducked out from beneath his arm, stalking to the other side of the Patton and gathering dignity around him. 

“Coils and crush, why do I put up with you?” He mumbled, the unscarred side of his face flushed. 

Remus just chuckled and grinned after Janus fondly. 

“Remus.” Patton said reprovingly. “It’s not nice to share other people’s embarrassing stories.”

“People share mine all the time.” Remus retorted.

“If we tried to tell stories about you that weren’t ridiculous we wouldn’t have anything to say.” snapped Janus, but he was smiling. 

“Who’s ridiculous?” Virgil asked, coming up with Logan. Given it was likely to be their last opportunity for a while, Logan and Virgil had gone into the city to buy books instead of just borrow them. Logan had a stack of books tied in string dangling from one hand, and another couple held to his chest. 

“Guess.” Janus drawled, rolling his eyes. 

Virgil looked over the group and sighed.

“Now you see you got me in a bind here, usually I know, but now there are two choices, so I have a fifty fifty chance of being wrong.”

“Hey-” Patton said reprovingly, hiding a smile. “You should be nicer to your friends, my dark lil’ buddy.” 

“I’m stating objective facts here, Pat.” 

“Technically it’s an opinion.” Logan pointed out “However backed up with observed data.” 

Virgil snorted. 

“I think we’re being mocked.” Roman said to Remus. Remus rolled his eyes theatrically, taking his head with it. 

“Really? What was your first clue?”

“Well, I wasn’t certain before, but then Virgil walked up…” 

“An excellent clue.” 

“It’s good to see you all in such high spirits.” Russell strolled up, hands tucked behind his back thoughtfully. Over his normal, nearly transparently thin shirt, rolled to the elbow, he wore a rust colored loose vest which fell to the top of his boots, edged in thick bands of geometric embroidery. He wore a necklace made of amber, fingers fanning out on his collar bone, and a single hoop with a similar fan like series of drops. The afternoon light caught the twists of silver in his copper hair.

“Come to see us off?” Roman asked. “You’re looking awfully fancy.” 

“Well a man likes to look his best.” he preened a little at the compliment, increasing his resemblance to the twins. “But Alisabeth wanted to try a scry before you went off, and with none of us experts in that, all the little extra bits of ceremony help.” 

“And what did you see?” Janus asked.

“It must of been super important if you came down still all dressed up.” Patton sounded a bit concerned. 

“Well, part of it was I did want to see my nephews off.” Reaching out, he offered a hand to Roman, who took it. “I didn’t get to spend nearly enough time getting to know you.” 

“Maybe we’ll get a chance later. Because I know it was like, a dodgy bribe, but having a-” he glanced over at Virgil, then continued “Minister of Magic advising the ruling body doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. I know you’re part of the ...Triad?”

“Tripod. We support the Circle.” Russell corrected. 

“So it probably wouldn’t be you, but it’s something for you guys to talk about.” 

“Well that should keep us occupied until the Revolution is over.” Russell joked. He sobered though. “Dorian is dead.”

“ **_What!_ ** ?” 

“Whew, you’ve got some pipes on you, shrieking violet.” Russell wiggled a finger in his ear.

“Virgil.”

“Eh-” he tapped on the dangles on his hoop, making them dance, then sighed. “The thing is, no one knows how it happened. He was fine and then suddenly.” he spread a hand. “He wasn’t.” 

“That’s highly suspicious.” Logan said, “That would be highly suspicious even in a place without magic, and doubly so with magic being a factor.”

“Nothing magic should have reached him.” Russell frowned at Logan. “He was in the Gyulog. We’ve tested it, extensively, magic doesn’t go in or out.” 

“Human magic?” Logan asked.

There was a pause. 

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, kid.” 

“I am not a kid.” Logan corrected, pushing his glasses up. “I haven’t had much of an opportunity, but I have been collecting and comparing information on magic since my arrival in Sanders. While I’m sure that seems insignificant to you, as you’ve spent your life immersed in it, I have noticed something very striking.” He dropped the bundle of books into Patton’s arms, and dug in his satchel removing a notebook. “Non-human magic, such as magic performed by the fae, the merfolk, and even the beast hearted witches is not given equal study. Given that dragons are substantially more rare, I would imagine there isn’t significantly more research into them.” 

“Huh.” Russell said thoughtfully. “This is a good one. You’re not entirely wrong, kid.”

“Not a kid.” Logan repeated. 

“But more people have studied dragons because they’re ‘interesting’ and because they can choose to use human-style magic. We’re selfish beings mages. You’ll have read about that in the books, I’d bet.”

“It has been mentioned, though more often in reference to witches.” Logan said cooly. 

“We're pretty sure it wasn’t magic, at least not the way we’re used to it, which is a little worrying, because that means the wards we can give you are incomplete as well. I felt you should know, but we’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread that too far. We have a reputation to maintain.”

“That’s fair.” Patton said before anyone else could speak. 

“But this also means a very limited number of people know about the things Dorian did, and how long he’d been working under Cadmus’s direction. Not only that, we have no guarantee we got everything he did and how he did it out of him before he died. We kind of assumed that we’d have time.” Russell exhaled slowly. “I feel I should apologize for that, but it is absolutely not my fault.” He made a stacking motion with his hands “Middle management responsibility.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone pass the buck  _ downwards _ , and that’s terrifying.” Virgil mumbled. 

Patton sighed, and try as he might, Virgil had no idea what emotion was on the older man’s face. 

“If Aleix comes out of the hill, have her message me.” Patton said at last. 

“Of course.” Russell looked around the group of them, and then put his arms around Roman and Remus. Roman looked a little awkward, but Remus accepted the hug. “I also did want to say goodbye to you properly. Keep eachother safe. You gotta deplatform the usurper so we can find your mom, okay?” 

Remus laughed, but it wasn’t the best sound.

“Right.” 


	7. .Book Seven.

They had left the Island on the evening tide, and Crescent Island was barely a speck and a spark on the horizon. For now, both Janus and Logan were mostly just looking a little bilious, not utterly miserable so they accepted the invitation to dine with Salim in his quarters. Even though they’d refused his offer to take them over, Roman had to admit he was a little curious what the captain’s quarters looked like, especially now knowing that Salim was essentially a pirate. 

A licenced pirate, but somehow, Roman was pretty sure that licence had come from his brother, not the actual kingdom. Or that it had come from an entirely different kingdom which was an even cooler prospect- he’d been pretty focused on learning about _Sanders_ , which meant he didn’t know nearly enough about even their closest trade partners. 

Still Roman was just a little bit too gleeful about the decorated cabin, which looked enough like the captain’s quarters in any given pirate movie to make him feel like he was in one. When they came in, Salim was organizing charts on the table beneath the rear window. He gestured towards the bed which was the other major furnishing, a sturdy and elegantly carved piece. “There’s some benches stowed under the bed if you want to pull them out and bring them over.” 

“Are you charting the-” Logan coughed into his hand, wincing at a wave of nausea, but kept going “the course we’re going to take? 

“Well, more going over it, would you like a look? I gather you’re something of a scholar.”

“More an obsessive collector of information.” Logan said weakly. “I don’t think I can put what I know in good enough order to be considered a scholar just yet.” 

Salim laughed. “My brother’s like that. Still in university up in Snoaj. Though he might just like the climate better. He’s albino and it’s a bit less sunny in the mountains.” 

“Snow-edge?” Logan asked, walking over to the table 

“Wait, these are sea charts-” the captain pulled a drawer out from beneath the table, and pulled out a map. “Here we are. Here’s Sanders- this isthmus and these islands here. Crescent Island is here-”

“That is much bigger than I thought it was.” Logan said, surprised. 

“Up here, that’s the border between Snoaj and Sanders. Snoaj goes a good way up the continent past the mountains, but that’s the traditional border. Less ports than Sanders, though. Allies for centuries, though things have been more strained of late. For some reason.” He added with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s see- the Talyen Islands are over there, they have the best fuckin’ dyes and pigments. I rescued the crew of a Talyen merchant ship once and the water looked like a rainbow had drained into it after it went down.” Much like the maps that Logan had seen in Gurinknot, there were fanciful borders and little monsters drawn where there was space, but the map itself was fairly good. Sanders was clearly the center of it, but there were notes scribbled on the edges in graphite telling the user the number of the map to get next. “To the west is Terianc- on the other side of the Sunlit Sea. Another long time ally of Sanders, though they’re having a dispute with a neighboring country, so they’ve got their own problems. To the east of Sanders is Ocean Ocean-”

“Wait, what?” Virgil interrupted, helping Roman put down a bench on the other side of the table from where they were standing. 

“It’s a joke. All the countries around it called it different things that all translate to ‘Ocean’ so as trade got more common and maps got traded back and forth more, it got the nickname ‘Ocean Ocean’.” 

“Oh my god it’s moon moon. Who invited them?” Virgil leaned over the table and looked athe map- and sure enough, that was what the area was labeled as it stretched to the edge of the page.

“Every now and then someone will try to rename it something else, but since it’s a compromise name no one is willing to give it up and let one guy get the satisfaction.” Salim laughed. He let Logan hold the map and look more closely. “This is the part I think you’ll be interested in though.” he pointed to the ocean chart again. “We’re heading here, to Port Taripin. I know how some of you love sea travel-” Janus hissed at him, sitting down and resting his head on the table. “And heading to Taripin will get you back on land a week earlier than other choices. We could head for a large port, or pull the same shell game we did getting you onto the Ravensflower, but…”

“I think I can speak for both Logan and myself when I say ‘good.’’ Janus sighed. 

Salim laughed, putting the charts away in their drawer. 

“I may have just met Logan, but I’ve known you as long as I’ve known Remus, and you have never been a happy sailor. Though…” he paused. “It did seem especially bad this time.” 

Janus winced and gestured at his face. 

“All in all, I am less strong all around than I have been previously.” 

“Certain amount of sense in that.” He might have gone on, but a young man came in, followed by the cook, both carrying covered trays. 

“Got the table cleared this time?” drawled the kid- he was at most fourteen, Roman guessed, remembering the cabin boy from the voyage out. 

“Sauce.” Salim shot back at him. 

“Well, you should have put me on a different ship then.” He shook a cloth out over the table, making Janus sit up irritably. 

“You’ve probably seen him about the ship, but this is my son, Emyr.” Salim told them. “Don’t apprentice your own kids. No respect.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” Virgil said, rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t worry, you and the prince can find a surrogate or something.” Emyr tossed off, taking dishes from a cabinet in the wall. 

“And that’s it, kid, you’re eating in the galley.” Salim said, covering his face with his hand as Emyr continued to set the table, unbothered. 

“One strike, sir? _Really_?”

“Some strikes are bigger than others.” 

“Mnnhmnn.” Looking unimpressed in the way of teenagers everywhere Emyr finished what he was doing. “You’re going to explain what I did wrong, right?” 

“If Cook doesn’t set you straight.” Salim sighed. 

“It’s cool squirt.” Remus said. “ _I_ think it was funny.”

“I am even more confused.” 

Remus ruffled his hair, and Emyr swatted his hands away.

“Ugh.” He left the cabin.

“Don’t mind him.” Cook said uncovering the trays. 

“Just real quick, your name isn’t really Cook is?” Roman asked. “I never got a chance to come check out the galley before, but it seems a little spot on and or rude.”

“Oh no, my name’s Captain, but that’s pretty confusing, so Cook’s fine.” He laughed. “I’m also the surgeon, so-” 

“Doctor Captain Cook!” 

“You’ve got it, your highness.” he laughed. “Enjoy, foods always better the first few nights away from port. You should enjoy it while you can.” 

Logan was fairly certain that he would never enjoy food again, at this point and that was problematic to say the least. The weather had taken a turn for the worse on the third day at sea. There had been concerns at sunset on the second day, when the entire sky was painted in shades of scarlet and crimson. He had thought that red sky in the evening was a good thing for sailors, but Remus had quietly corrected him- fortunately before he’d said something to the crew.

The reason the saying was ‘red skies at night, sailor’s delight’ was for fishermen, who would be going out after the weather had passed during the night. It was a little different for vessels out at sea. 

Though battened down and waiting in the cabin below decks, Logan had to wonder if a storm like this would have been welcome any time. Janus’s face was pressed against his shoulder, so hard he could swear there would be an imprint of his scar, even through the shirt. He just seemed to want to be holding something, as he murmured some sort of mantra that Logan couldn’t quite catch. Remus had been a little wan himself when he’d left the cabin- he and Patton both going to offer their limited sailing expertise to try and help as the storm wound on. 

It was hard to tell without time peices, but Logan was fairly sure it had been more than twenty four hours since the storm had engulfed the Ravensflower. Roman meanwhile had not left his bunk either, facing the wall as the ship pitched and creaked. Logan had never seen Roman so subdued before, and part of him felt bad that he didn’t have the focus to think about that as well as his own misery. Virgil sat beside the bunk, feet braced against the rocking floor, one arm hooked over the box that held the matress to lock himself firmly in place, but mostly didn’t say anything. Every now and then he’d ask how they were doing. 

“You okay, Ro?” or “How’s it going L?” or “Python princess, you good?” which at least got a reaction out of Janus. None of them were doing well, though Roman at least hadn’t thrown up. Someone lurched into the outside of the door, and his head shot up, staring, as it opened and Patton came in. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, so he was squinting, and his hair and clothing were soaked, crunchy with salt.

“What’s the news on the storm?” Virgil demanded, rising up to sit on the edge of Roman’s bunk instead. Roman rolled over and curled around Virgil’s torso, shaking as thunder crashed overhead again. 

“It’s a storm?” Patton said wearily, fishing his glasses out and putting them on. “It’s bad. I tried to find the edges of it and I couldn’t.”

“Can’t you like-” Virgil wiggled his fingers. “ _Do_ something?”

“No, buddy, I can’t.” Patton sounded defeated. “Weather magic is a very specific skill and I don’t have it.” Logan could hear the exhaustion in his voice as well. The wind screamed, getting louder, and something crashed above decks. They all stared at the ceiling. There was shouting, but it was barely audible over the storm and the regular thunder.

The realization that they were in a small wooden box floating on the surface of an ocean hit Logan with a near physical blow. He tightened his grip on Janus who in turn clutched at his shirt, mantra momentarily silent. 

“If I’d seen it coming, I could have called for merfolk, and they might have been able to do something; but no one is going to surface in this.” Patton sounded apologetic. “I’ve been doing everything I can.” The entire ship gave a painful lurch and Patton grabbed at the edge of the bunk. “That being said, I need to lay some charms on you. I’ve gotten the rest of the crew, and this is really just a worst case scenario thing, but they’ll keep you on the surface of the water. A lot of sailors just have this charm enchanted into a piece of jewelry, it’s not a big deal-” he touched his ribcage with that drawing gesture that indicated he was using a Mark as a conduit, and twisted his fingers together. As Patton leaned over to touch Logan he was launched into the bunk by another surge, and thunder roared. 

He tried to laugh it off, laying the spell on Logan and Janus, and adding a paternal forehead kiss for Logan who swatted him irritably, looking over at Virgil and Roman. Roman’s face was pressed into Virgil’s stomach, and Virgil was looking at the door to the cabin. Water was seeping under the bottom, just a little, a foaming trickle as the boat rocked and lurched. He was clutching back at Roman, and for the first time, he looked a little sea sick. 

“Patton.” Virgil croaked. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” 

Patton opened his mouth to try and reassure him. The thunder cracked like a chain of fireworks, and the wood around them buzzed faintly. 

“This isn’t natural.” Virgil pushed. 

Patton looked down at the floor.

“No. I don’t see how it could be. It feels like a thing given purpose. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to- the ship is strong and the crew is good. They’ve weathered storms on the water before. It’s still just a stor-” Everything lurched sharply, and for a long moment they were almost still. The light in the deck prism- made of the same crystal used in lamps- was dimmer than it should be and the second dragged on before the entire room- the entire ship shook with concussive force. No one spoke, their hearts in their throats. 

“Virgil.” the sound was squeezed out of Roman’s throat and he clawed his way upright, wrapping his arms around his friend's shoulders. 

“I’m here, doofus, don’t worry.” He hugged back.

“Virge, I love you.” Roman croaked. 

“I know.” Virgil tried to sooth him.

“No you don’t! Because I haven’t said it enough!” Roman cried, his voice getting louder to be heard over the sounds of the storm. “You mean so much to me, and I’ve said it to other people and I haven’t said it to you, not really, so you don’t know!” 

“You don’t need to say it, dumbass. It’s an understood thing.” Virgil hugged tighter, fingers tapping on Roman’s shoulder in a familiar pattern, but somewhat uptempo. 

“No you don’t understand, I _love_ you. So fucking much. You complete me. You have bewitched me body and soul, I love you, I can’t live without you. I love you most ardently. Just the way you are.”

“Roman-” Virgil’s voice was choked. “Don’t- it’s okay, it’s just a storm, we’ll … be okay.” he did not sound convincing.

“I’d wait by your body just for the _chance_ you’d wake up.” Roman choked out. “I need you; because I can’t picture the rest of my life without you in it. I love that I love things I hate about you-”

“Stop please stop, Ro.” Virgil begged. “I’m just barely holding it together here.” 

“I don’t want to know how to quit you. Because I love you, and I’ve never said it because you don’t want to hear it. I’m so scared this is my last chance to say it.” 

“Roman!” 

“It’s you first. At the beginning and the end. The fucking love of my life.” and he kissed him, pulling against the hold Virgil had in his hair to press their mouths together, frantically. 

Captive to the garbled love confession, Patton, Logan and Janus could only watch as it softened, the kiss returned, Virgil's thumb running through the tears that had escaped Roman’s eyes as he spoke. 

Finally he pulled away, gulping air, staring at Roman’s face cupped between his hands, and the lurching threw them against each other, sending Patton’s unprepared body to the floor, and Virgil crashing down on top of Roman in the bunk.

“No.” Croaked Virgil between the thunder. “No.” he repeated. “No you don’t get to- pull this fucking last minute we’re going to die so I can be brave bull shit on me!” He shoved Roman into the mattress and crawled out of the bunk. “No.”

“Virgil-” Roman sounded heart broken, reaching after him. Virgil whirled, hair in a loose mess and pointed at Roman with one trembling finger. On the very tip of that finger glimmered an eerie purple lick of fox fire, trickling down from the deck prism.

“No!” he repeated, and grabbed his tambur, tossing the strap over his neck, and threw the door to the cabin open. A small wave of water rolled in as he did, and he ignored it as he threw himself into the hall. Roman scrambled to his feet, barely getting to upright as he reached the door, following Virgil. 

It took a great deal more pulling to get the hatch to the deck open, and as soon as he did, Virgil was soaked, but that didn’t stop him. Patches of blue and purple plazma danced on the end of spires and masts, picking out the rigging and sailors moved frantically tending the ship. Virgil strode out onto deck, leaving footprints of electricity, as he climbed up on another hatch. Behind Roman who was clutching at a rope strung on the deck, Patton flung his arms out then cupped his hands together. Around the ship the water gained a faint cyan luminescence, especially where the waves spattered against it, over the deck, but it steadied. Looking up, Virgil flung his hand into the air, as lightning struck the water around them.

And the thunder never came.

Three times, lighting struck, each time terrifyingly closer to the Ravensflower. At the wheel, Remus and Salim who had been trying to keep it steady now stared at Virgil as though he was a terrifying and unfamiliar creature. 

His trembling hand stayed up and no thunder crashed. 

“FUCK OFF!” Screamed Virgil, louder than human lungs could produce and brought his hand down to the strings of his instrument. From that center point, violet lightning flashed out in concussive rings. 

It wasn’t really surprising that people weren’t exactly sure what happened after that. There was a vague memory of music, so loud that it left tinny echoes in the back of people’s skulls, and the flowering of the foxfire that sometimes blessed ships during storms, a flickering dancing nimbus. Everyone’s ears popped, suddenly as the pressure changed. And the sky was suddenly clear. So clear the star light pierced their eyes. The sea around them stirred, swirling the ship in a gentle circle, like a boiling pot being taken off the heat and allowed to cool. 

Virgil hunched a little bit, hair in wild tangles around his gaunt, pale face. He’d gained a little color in the last few weeks, but he was naturally on the pale side, coupled with his nearly nocturnal preferences, leading to his preferred cadaverous complexion, exhausted shadows showing up starkly. He was even paler than that. Blood dripped slowly from his nose and ears, but he stayed upright, his entire body heaving with each breath. 

As soon as he could find his feet, Roman scrambled over the still soaked deck, arriving at the raised hatch just in time to catch the body of his best friend, the first person he loved in a careless enduring way. The instrument he still held in one hand was also somewhat the worse for wear, but Roman cupped his face, feeling for and finding a fluttering pulse and a wrecked trembling breath. 

“Virge.” He said, pressing their foreheads together. “What the ever loving fuck?”

“Not letting you out of it that easy.” Virgil croaked, his voice strained, barely audible. “Not letting go. Gonna give you a hard time forever. No deathbed confessions, Prince of Plagiarism.” 

“It was.” Roman choked, still holding him close. “It was an _homage_ , you uncultured savage.” 

Virgil grinned, and sighed, losing his grip on the instrument, but not Roman’s shirt, as he slipped into unconsciousness. The strap had broken, so it just fell to the deck with a hollow, musical thunk. 

Around them, the crew gave praise to the gods they followed- and no few whispered blessings of protection for Virgil. It was even as to if those blessings were for or against. 

When Virgil woke up, he could feel the normal soft rocking of the ship, a sensation he’d almost goten used to. He couldn’t seem to open his eyes though. Lifting a sore arm he pressed fingertips to his eyelids, and rubbed crusted eye gunk away. Pressure on his fingers hurt, like pressing on a blister, and the dried crumbles went right back into his eyes, grittily, so he let his arm fall back to the blankets. 

“You were saying about levels of magic, Janus?” Logan’s voice came, low and calm. 

“It’s not levels.” Janus grumbled irritably. “It makes magic sound like a parfait or a club. I can’t believe you couldn’t find a book on this.”

“It’s entirely possible they didn’t wish to sell one to me. I am, after all, no kind of mage. If it comes up again, perhaps I will get Remus to draw something on my forearm.” 

There was a brief burst of laughter. 

“Oh I’d like to see that. I can picture it now, a quill that looks like a dick from a different angle. No, if you’re going to pretend a mark, I think it would look more like this for you.” there was a pause, and a sound like someone uncapping a pen. Virgil drifted a bit, yawning, but not trying to rub his eyes again. 

“This appears abstract, a series of lines on my fingers.” 

“They’re all different angles- it’s like finger spelling, you would manipulate them to create glyphs for focus, the way Patton uses his tattoo symbols to focus on different spells.”

“Finger spelling?” Logan asked, a sly lilt to his voice.

“...oh dear god, don’t tell Patton.” 

Virgil liked listening to the two of them laughing together, especially given how miserable they’d been before. He’d like to join in too, honestly. There was something important he needed to talk about, he was pretty sure.

“Anyhow, what I think you _meant_ was the difference between witchcraft and Marked Mages.” 

“That will certainly do.” 

“As I’m sure it won’t surprise you, Marked Mages can be a bit snobbish when it comes to what they call ‘lesser’ magics, the kind most people can learn- lighting a candle, a light counter charm, even activating a more complex bought charm. Those don’t need something to focus through. Above that, we have witchcraft, focused through objects and invested in objects, potion making, some craft making, curses and cures.”

“The trade schools of magic, as opposed to the university or masters of Marked Mages.” 

“I suppose so; I’m not too familiar with the term. Something to bear in mind is that many naturally marked people, with birthmarks, or oddly colored eyes- which can be the result of being over-exposed to magic- are basically considered witches, unless they pursue the higher levels of commitment of being Marked. Some people even discourage naturally Marked people from pursuing the higher magics.”

“Sounds like bullshit.” mumbled Virgil. 

“Ah, he’s properly awake.” Logan murmured and a moment later, a damp cloth was laid over his eyes, then gently wiped away. Virgil blinked up at Logan and smiled a little. 

“Thanks L. What the fuck did I drink?”

Janus gave an incredulous laugh. 

“Try again.” 

“No, that has to be it, because I had the weirdest dream about a storm and Roman confessing his love and- SHIT.” He sat up, swaying a little. “That asshole!” 

“Oh yes,” Janus said “ _He’s_ the asshole. Not the guy who passed out for a day and a half after displaying an entirely unprecedented form of wild magic, making everyone worry about him. How dare he?” 

“I’m glad you understand.” Virgil deadpanned. “Where’s his high matinence?” 

“On deck with his socially graceless.” Janus retorted. "I'd go get him, but I don't do sea legs." 

"What, ever?"

"Walking is for suckers." 

Awkwardly Virgil tried to shuffle to the edge of the bunk, having been tucked into one of the larger bottom bunks, but felt worn out, like he'd just attended a really fucking good concert. Mildly concussed, completely drained, but not necessarily in a bad way.

"Fuck!" 

"Are you alright?" Logan asked immediately, reaching for him.

"I'm fine! I just remembered I had concert tickets for this fall, and that I'm going to fucking _miss_ it!" 

"Ah." Logan tried to formulate an appropriate response. “I’m sorry to hear that?”

“Give me a second to mourn.” He flopped back onto the mattress and screamed into the pillow. Finally he sat up, rubbing at his eye bags slightly. “Time for the next disaster.” 

Logan pressed a cup into his hands, which Virgil gripped awkwardly. His pulse kind of throbbed when he pressed into things. 

“Here, drink something, I’ll go tell Roman you’ve woken up.” Before Virgil could say anything Logan was already out the door. 

Janus propped on the opposite bunk from Virgil, stared at him calmly. 

“Something for you?” He grumbled sipping at the juice-sweetened water. 

Janus shook his head a little bit. 

“You know, if you wanted to, you could pretend you didn’t remember.” it was a gentle suggestion. “It might be easier for you.” 

Virgil clutched the cup tighter, wincing at the throb in his hands. 

“You could put off dealing with it until you felt better.”

“It could wait another five years before Roman managed to say something.”

“It could.” Janus allowed. “Would that be so bad?”

“You…” Virgil looked at him, at the exhausted expression on Janus’s face. “Is it hard?”

“What?”

“You and Remus. Logan. You’ve been together for a long time.”

“Well he was hardly my first kiss.” Janus said arily. “Or first anything, really. Best, perhaps. We didn’t always get along when we first met, you know. I tend to be… cautious in more situations than he does.” 

“So at all?” 

Janus laughed quietly, shoulders shaking a bit. 

“You’ve got him pegged. I think the hope was I’d balance him, and I suppose I do to a certain extent, but he has the opposite effect on me.” He gave a thin grin. “I used to be _much_ more mildly spoken. Very much telling people what they wanted to hear to trap them in what I wanted them to do.”

“Manipulative.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“I don’t like it.” Virgil shook his head. “I meant… with Logan. Is it hard?” 

“Well it helps that Logan is… well… Logan.” Janus tipped his head slightly, and raised his eyebrows. “I have to say, Remus has one or two flings that I was less fond of.” his smile got sharp. “They never lasted long. Logan, by contrast.” He sighed. 

“He’s something alright.” Virgil had to admit. “I mean, can you blame them?”

“Not in the least. He’s so… good looking.” Janus wrinkled his nose, and looked away letting a wing of hair slide over the left side of his face. Virgil had noticed when Janus felt more vulnerable he sat with his scar facing away from most people, though the rest of the time he was hardly shy about showing it. “I don’t think I was ever quite that… hunky?” 

Virgil gave a strangled laugh, leaning against the edge of his bunk as well.

“No, you’re more of a pretty boy.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Oh yes, cut me to the quick, reveal my most closely held secrets- I’m a pretty pretty princess.” Virgil drawled. “And it isn’t enough for him to be that good looking.” 

“Handsome, smart, _and_ kind, if somewhat awkward.” Janus sighed. “And so _polite_. Feed him facts or listen to him theorise and he’s just all shy smiles and delightful words.” 

“Ugh.” Virgil agreed. “Perfect white teeth and pretty dark eyes.” 

“Say, I have a new plan.” Janus said, smile getting quite big. 

“Oh?”

“We ditch the wonder twins and run off into the sunset with Logan.” he gestured back and forth between them. 

“Why, Mr. J, are you trying to seduce me?” Virgil laughed quietly, his entire body shaking a bit. In response, Janus stuck one of his legs out, pointing his toes coquettishly, as he fluttered his eyelashes. This only made Virgil laugh harder, which he tried to hide in his drink. He got himself under control and finished the drink, leaning over carefully to set the empty mug on the floor. His head spun as he sat back up. 

“Well, as much as I appreciate the offer,” he sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t know what my idiot would do without me.” 

“And isn’t that a truth.” Janus wet his lips, and his smile faded back to his normal quietly amused expression. “Don’t let Logan pull away.” He said seriously. “I’m sure he’ll try, and if all of you want the same thing, don’t let what you have change.” 

Outside in the corridor, there was an erratic thumping as someone dashed down it, and the door swung open, revealing Roman. 

Whatever Roman had been doing it had been physical, because he was glistening with sweat and as shirtless as a romance novel cover. To make matters worse, his face completely lit up when he saw Virgil sitting up. None of this was new; Virgil had gotten used to his semi casual approach to nudity and his dazzling smiles, so it had no business hitting him like a blow to the sternum, leaving him breathless and hearing the faint echo of ‘I love you’ buzzing in his skull. 

What Roman actually said was- 

“You’re okay!” He sat down beside Virgil, and put the back of his hand to Virgil’s forehead. 

“Of course I’m okay.” Virgil swatted the hand away. 

“Don’t you ‘of course me’, Surly Temple.” Roman retorted. “I thought you’d gotten struck by lightning or something. You were bleeding!” 

“I got nosebleeds all the time in school, it’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, bullshit?! The infirmary was really worried about your nosebleeds.”

“It was just that one that went on.” Virgil tried to dismiss, and Roman grabbed a jug and refilled the mug, pushing it back into Virgil’s hands. 

“And you were unconscious for two days- that’s a _coma_ , Virgil, not a depression nap.” 

“I’m fine.” Virgil assured him, but drank what he was given anyway. His throat still hurt a bit.

“Well your sunny personality certainly survived.” Roman let his hands drop to his lap. They stared at each other for a long moment. “So. Uh.” 

“You wanna repeat what you _had_ to say the other night?” Virgil arched an eyebrow, and stared out from behind his bangs. Someone had braided his hair back while he was sleeping, but he still had his fringe to protect him. “What’s good, Roman?” he croaked. 

“Fuck.” Roman mumbled, and took a deep breath. “...you gave me shit for using other people’s words. So I’m gonna need a minute. To find mine.” closing his eyes, he rested his hands on his knees, and took a deep breath. 

“Just to warn you now, if you start singing, I’m walking home.” 

“Oh my god.” Roman choked cracking up. “Why do I love you?” He opened his eyes again, and grinned at Virgil, who’d set the mug in his lap. Roman took the opportunity to capture Virgil’s hand in both of his. “So Remus taught me that there’s a basic spell that most people can do.” Before explaining anything further, he kissed the pad of each of Virgil’s fingers, making him twitch slightly, as the aching pain eased to a manageable level. “I do love you though. You know that right? Even if you didn’t know that I was a little in love with you.” 

“Yeah, you’re not shy about saying it, Ro.” Virgil told him, not sure if he should reclaim his hand or not. 

“But you’re my partner. I can’t picture my life without you in it, like a snarky, emo shadow. I…” he shook his head. “Fuck this is embarassing. Patton suggested that I leave you behind you know. Before we left. And I… said a lot of things. About how much I need you, how you make me better. But mostly I couldn’t even picture a life without you. Most of the time I’d think ‘yeah, he’s my best friend.’ And then my brain would go off elsewhere, and I’d write a stupid story in my head about us in diffrent lives where we were apart and the world pushed us together- a prince and a knight, or soulmates pulled together by the red string of fate. Those kind of stories don’t just end with them sharing a duplex and KIA.”

“... look is this another jab at the car? It has a great safety rating. You agreed to let me pick.” 

“Virgil, we skipped right from friends to ‘been married for years.’” 

“We’re not married.” Virgil protested. “We just… share a life, and bills, and raised an idiot together.” 

“You’re not hurting my case.” Roman teased. “I wanna kiss you good morning, and goodnight, and hello when I see you.” 

“And sometimes you do-” 

“I’m sorry.” Roman interrupted quietly. “That I didn’t say anything, because I had almost everything, and it was so close I didn’t want to lose what I had.” he swallowed, and squeezed Virgil’s hand gently. “But I have to be brave enough to say I’d like more than what I have, too. Not just love, but romance. Not just partnership, but intimacy.” His voice wobbled a bit. “I have had some dreams about you that would be very gratifying to try to make a reality, if you… if you were interested in that kind of thing. If I wasn’t wrong. If you kissed me back. If you wanted to talk about it now, when I don’t think we’re about to die.” Looking up, he met Virgil’s eyes steadily. “It’s okay if _I’m_ not what you want, if that’s not what you want too. Because even though I want more, I want you to be happy more. Well, as happy as you get.” 

“You asshole.” Virgil said, but didn’t pull his hand away. 

“Yeah. You said that. But am I your asshole- no wait”

“No take backs! I heard that!” 

Both Roman and Virgil turned in horror to see Remus sitting next to Janus on the opposite bunk. 

Roman flushed all the way to his hairline. 

“If I’d known we had an audience, I would have played to the cheap seats.” he snapped at his brother.

“If I’d known what a show it was going to turn into, I would have gotten some candied nuts.” Janus retorted as Remus just collapsed into rockus laughter. Virgil’s pale complexion showed his blush much more starkly than Roman’s tan. 

“Get out.” he grated. 

Remus managed to get ahold of his breathing and stop laughing, wiping mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes. 

“As you wish, ‘coonie.” Getting to his feet, he scooped Janus up into an easy carry. “Let’s go, if they confession-fuck, I don’t want to see that.”

“But my Darling Duke.” Janus cried dramatically, flinging one arm around his neck and the other hand up to his brow.. “I’m emotionally invested in the plot!” 

“I’m sure we’ll hear about the reviews.” Remus carried him away. “We’re still calmed anyway, and you’ll feel better if you get some sun for a bit.” he nudged the door shut behind them. 

“He wasn’t kidding about walking being for suckers…” Virgil said mildly. 

“Do I have to start over?” Roman asked. 

The corner of Virgil’s mouth turned up playfully, but then shook his head. “I think I got the idea.” He exhaled slowly, and squeezed Roman’s hand. “Hey, dumbass, with all that, you forgot something really important.”

“What?”

“Roman, do you wanna trade being ‘a little married’ for being _absolutely_ my boyfriend?” 

Virgil had never witnessed processing lag in real life. There was a long, blinking silence, Roman too stunned to say anything. 

“You-” before Roman could say anything more, Virgil leaned into his space, pressing their lips gently together. 

It was nowhere near the realm of the first time they kissed. They’d kissed in the heat of arguments in college before they became proper friends. They‘d kissed drunkenly later in college, for the sheer sensation of it and even more drunkenly in celebration of their first apartment together. They’d kissed for dares, as they became more comfortable with each other. On one occasion they’d kissed to get a girl who just did not get the hint to leave Roman alone at a cast party. Comforting kisses on the cheek or the head were almost commonplace- not to mention Roman’s tendency to kiss hands when he was feeling grandiloquent in his arguments. Their casual intimacy had gone well beyond normal boundaries without their even thinking about it. 

Not to mention Roman’s frantic, desperate, emotive kiss, capping off his garbled confession. Virgil was much more cautious, which suited him. After the first brush of their lips, almost testing the waters, like he was afraid despite everything Roman had said, he hadn’t meant it like that, Virgil deepened the kiss, cupping the side of Roman’s face thumb running over the faint stubble on his cheek. He might have pulled away, but Roman mirrored the action, not pulling him closer so much as holding him there. They weren’t crushed together, but overlapping over their clasped hands. 

“No trade.” Roman breathed softly. “I want both.” 

“Greedy.” retorted Virgil, not pulling away, eyes barely open. 

“A little yeah.” He slid his hand around Virgil’s neck, rubbing his fingers up and down in a gentle massage. Virgil’s eyes shut the rest of the way, as Roman slid a little closer, and kissed him again. It was natural to just put their arms around each other then, and that only made kissing further easier. 

“Geeze.” Mumbled Virgil, mock growchly, as they finally stopped to catch their racing breaths. “Getting me all second-hand sweaty.” 

“Who’s high maintenance now?” Roman teased.

“Still you.” He smiled against Roman’s neck, and added a little kiss for emphasis, making Roman shiver. “You know we’re going to have to one hundred percent ‘use our words’ talk about this later, right?” 

“Yeah, but not yet okay? Let's just bask in how many less ‘I told you so’s we’re in for because we hooked up here, instead of at home.” 

Virgil groaned. 

“Oh the other hand, the things your brother’s gonna do with his eyebrows if we stay in here too long will be almost worse.” 

This time Roman groaned, and buried his face in Virgil’s neck, where it met the shoulder, pulling him even closer. 

“He’s going to anyway, so can we just stay like this a little longer?” 

Virgil considered, then relaxed against him, trailing fingers down his bare back. “I didn’t feel like standing up just yet anyway.” 

Roman sniggered a little bit, and Virgil growled under his breath.

“Remus is a bad influence on you.” 

“Hey you thought it too.” Roman challenged, but yelped as Virgil bit his neck, and gasped when it was followed with a soothing kiss. “ _Virgil_!” 

“I don’t know what you expected.” he smirked. “Given how well you know me.” 

The wind came back up around dusk. Since the storm had calmed, both the sea and air had been fairly still, the faint gusts not enough to fill the sails, and the motion of the water more like rocking a finicky baby. It had given the sailors time to repair damage the storm had done to The Ravensflower, but if it had lasted much longer, it would have been cause for concern. But the ship was whispering through the water, and the stars were brilliant above. 

Logan lay on his back and stared at it, letting the smell of the ocean- much sweeter and more saline out on the open water than it had ever been on the shore- wash over him. It wasn’t quite enough to ease the pit of queasiness in his stomach, but as long as he didn’t move too much, he could enjoy the night sky. It had been charted- Salim had shown him the star charts- but it still looked wild and uncharted and so full to Logan’s eyes. 

So why were his eyes shut, palms pressed to them? 

It was stupid, and Logan ran through the reasons why again, in an attempt to convince himself.

One- his relationship with Remus was unchanged.

Two- Roman had plainly been in love with Virgil for a long time, and at least peripherally aware of it, even when he’d chosen to flirt with Logan.

Likewise- reason three, or perhaps, two and a half, Virgil had reached out to him, no jealousy, and only a trace of hesitation, when they had realized that there was attraction as well as friendship. Given that- and given their discussions of group dynamics, logic and previously noted patterns should have Logan being more worried about his heart giving out between them from sheer sexual frustration. His heart shouldn’t _hurt_.

Reason four- neither of them had said anything exclusionary to Logan, and were, for a nominally new couple, remarkably unsoppy. The only difference in their relationship was that now they would actually kiss, instead of looking like they were going to and then not.

Reason five- he was happy for them. He really was. Jealousy was a terrible, illogical emotion in the first place, let alone in a place where it clearly did not belong. 

However; he couldn’t seem to help it. He’d stay on deck until he’d worked a little more through it. The lower bunks were larger, but still a tight fit for three people; it would probably be better this way. If he waited until everyone else was asleep he would have an excuse to sleep in a bunk by himself without hurting anyone’s feelings. 

“How-de-do Logan!” 

Logan shot upright, glasses clattering from their perch on the top of his head, bouncing off the hatch cover and to the deck proper. Patton ducked out of sight and reappeared with them, handing them over as Logan swung his legs to sit on the edge of the hatch instead of laying ontop of it. 

“Gosh I’m sorry.” Patton apologized. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I should have been paying more attention, Patton, you’re hardly to blame.” 

“I dunno, you looked pretty deep in thought when I came up. That or half asleep.” Patton smiled at him, leaning against the hatch next to him. 

“No, I was thinking.” Logan assured him. “I think I would regret sleeping out here. The pitch is much less marked below decks.” He made no effort to move further, however, now staring out towards the horizon. 

“I’m so glad Virgil’s okay.” Patton told Logan, opening the conversation with little preamble. “He scared the pants off me with that stunt.” 

“Which part?” Logan retorted. 

“All of it. The whole kitten caboodle.”

“I believe the phrase is ‘kit and caboodle’” Logan offered.

“I’d rather have a kitten.” 

Logan turned and stared at him for a moment. Patton was staring off into the distance as well, starlight reflecting off his silvered hair. 

“Besides,” he added “Virgil reminds me of a kitten, so…”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Patton, how is Virgil like a kitten?” 

Patton grinned brilliantly at Logan, apparently pleased that he’d asked. 

“Soft with pointy bits. Cute but dangerous. He hisses, and is twitchy. Black.” 

“What was that last one?”

“Black like a cute kitty-” Patton made a petting motion in the air at about Virgil’s head level. 

“Oh you mean his hair and clothes!” 

“What _else_ would I mean?” Patton looked a bit confused. Logan snorted quietly. 

“You? Nothing less or more than what you said.” They fell into silence again.

“You don’t need to be sad you know.” Patton said quietly.

“Who said I was sad?” Logan retorted sharply. “They were mistaken. I’m fine.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with _not_ being fine.” 

“That’s fine, but I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” 

“Boy, that doesn’t even sound like a word anymore now!” Patton giggled. 

“Repetition can do that to words. So perhaps stop making me repeat myself before language loses all meaning?” Logan went to slide off his seat, but Patton reached out and touched his hand. He paused “Did you have a point?” 

“Have you ever been in love?” it seemed like a non sequitur, so Logan sat back, considering the question. 

“I’ve been infatuated a few times when I was younger. Despite my best efforts, I found myself quite obsessed with finding a romantic partner my first year in college. The attempts certainly went a long way to curing me of that desire.” remembering basic conversational rules, he cleared his throat. “What about you, Patton, have you ever been in love?” 

“No. I don’t think that I have.” Patton admitted. “Not…” he waved his hand. “Not like that at least. I love lots of people. Heck, pretty sure I love you some.” he reached out to tweak Logan’s nose and he batted the hand aside with an exasperated sigh. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re great! Very loveable.” 

“Patton, please.” Logan snorted. “Spare me your optimistic hyperbole.” 

“Do you think that you’re not loved?” Patton sounded concerned now, and Logan couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes, which were brilliant even in the darkness. 

“I… am not sure if I know what other people mean by that, as you said.” Logan recalled his conversation with Virgil. “Some strange intersection between tender and horny, I suppose.” 

Patton burst out laughing, laughing hard enough he had to take his glasses off to wipe tears from his eyes. Logan wasn’t quite sure what was so funny about what he’d said. 

“When I was younger,” Patton said, after he’d calmed down. “I thought I was in love a lot. I thought I was in love with Lupe; all awkward teenage hormones and admiration. She was far too old for me, and not at all interested, but that didn’t stop me.”

“That sounds… awkward.” 

“I’m lucky.” Patton admitted. “She took my mooning in stride and didn’t let it hurt how she taught me. I learned, because to me she was the most fascinating person in the world. And I realized that I loved her, but I wasn’t in love with her. All I wanted was her approval and attention. I was able to be there for her, and support her, when her family was torn apart.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Then there was this fellow, Teal. He thought he was in love with me, I think. He sure tried his best. You would have liked him, I think. Teal was a cartographer. I wanted to love him. He was sweet and kind and awkward, always trying his best, with a pretty smile. He didn’t like puns, but hey, if he was perfect I would have felt worse about not loving him, in the end.” 

“What happened?” 

“We had a torrid affair.” Patton said with a straight face. 

“ _You_ had a torrid affair.” Logan said doubtfully. 

“Didn’t think pop had it in him?” Patton asked, giving a wink. 

“No, not really. Though I suppose you were younger at the time?”

“Oh gosh yes. So I suppose ‘torrid’ is a little strong for a young romance, no matter how many times and places we fucked.”

“Why are you telling me this?” 

Patton laughed. 

“That was faster than I expected; I didn’t even get to Janus, and that was probably the most-” 

Logan physically put his hand over Patton’s mouth. 

“I really need you to stop; why are you telling me about your dating history? Because if this is an attempt to romance me, it is unconventional, unsuccessful, and unwanted.” 

Patton started laughing again, though these were more chuckles, and he reached up, taking Logan’s hand away. 

“No, not at all. You weren’t thinking of your problems, were you?” he offered. 

“I suppose not.” 

“And I was trying to give you perspective. I’ve had several relationships, many of which could be considered romantic, some of which were very important to me; but I still don’t think I’ve been in love.” He tipped his head, peering at Logan out of the corner of his eye. “No matter how hard I tried.” 

Logan frowned, thinking. Before, he’d felt much the same way; love had been cumbersome and unattainable. So he had decided, logically, he didn’t want it. 

Except he was pretty sure he did now. He _wanted_ love. A rather lot of it. He felt positively greedy, which was rarely a good feeling. But there wasn’t any logic to it, it had happened uninvited, like a stray cat moving in. Like the love he was receiving.

“It used to hurt. Like I was doing something wrong. Or like I was hurting the people I did like, quite a bit, by not loving them ‘right’. I don’t like hurting people.” Patton sighed, leaning back against the hatch. 

“Were you?” Logan asked. 

Patton shrugged. 

“No. Disappointed a couple of people but I think I managed not to hurt anyone. At least I sure hope so!” 

“Is it easier?” 

“I don’t think I can tell, Logan. It sure didn’t seem like it at the time.” he gave a little laugh. “Being more comfortable with knowing it is easier. But that’s because it’s true for me. It’s not a solution, just an answer.” 

“Of course.” Logan closed his eyes for a long moment. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have interrupted you.”

“Or maybe I wasn’t really making my point.”

“I don’t know why I’m here.” Logan said. He didn’t feel homesick. He knew what that felt like; it wasn’t as if he wanted to go _back_.

“Because you haven’t gone to bed yet?” Patton suggested. 

“I’m serious.”

“Hello serious, I’m Pat.” 

Logan groaned. “Really?” 

“Absolutely, why would I fib about that?” Patton giggled quietly. “You’re here because you _do_ love, Logan, so that’s a good thing.” 

Logan made a small scoffing noise. 

“But you know, we may be asking the wrong questions.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Logan, what are you afraid of?” 

After a long moment of silence, Logan pointed downward. 

“You’re afraid of yourself?” Patton sounded confused.

“Well, in this situation, yes, somewhat, but I was referring to what’s at the bottom of the ocean.” 

The fact so little changed after the somewhat awkward discussion- it could hardly be called a confession- was a better indication to both of them that they had been really kind of stupid about the entire thing than either Virgil or Roman was prepared to admit. But then they had just proven that they were really terrible at admitting things so perhaps that wasn’t surprising. 

After the terrifying storm and the troubling calm that followed it, the weather returned to normal. The storm had blown the Ravensflower off course, but not a great deal, only adding another day or so to the estimated travel time. In theory it would have been a good time to plan, or talk over interpersonal problems before they returned to the mainland and plunged back into the revolution. 

That would however require a willingness to do so. Instead Logan had taken the opportunity to tuck himself into a bunk and read, not speaking to anyone after Patton had prodded him into returning to the cabin. The book that he’d picked up on the fae on Crescent Island was thick with jargon and hard to understand. The most irritating thing, however, was that a great deal of what he understood of it boiled down to the writer simply not knowing the answer. 

“Hey L.” Virgil was very good at entering rooms quietly, but Logan didn’t jump. Instead he put a bookmark into the book before looking up. “How you doing?” 

“Less than optimal. I will be glad to have ground under my feet again.” 

“Yeah, you’ve been kind of quiet the last few days. I mean, you don’t exactly look pale, but you have looked a little waxy.” Virgil sat down on the bunk, leaning against the other end and looking at him. “You need anything?” 

“You don’t need to.” Logan said, drawing his legs up out of the way. “I have certainly felt worse than this.” He smiled a little bit, that tended to reassure people; and it was still easier to smile at Virgil than other people. 

“Yeah, that’s what makes you special.” He poked Logan’s toes. “Because I want to.” He paused. “Can I come up there?” 

Logan blinked. 

“I suppose.” 

Virgil scooted around so he was sitting next to Logan instead and sighed, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder. 

“So you know what no one thought to fucking do?” Virgil grumbled without further preamble. “I just discovered that no one thought to pick up my goddamn tambur and dry it off.” 

“Oh dear.” Logan said mildly. “Damp isn’t good for instruments is it?” 

“Tambur are pretty forgiving, but there are limits!” he grumbled. “I mean, at least they moved it so no one stepped on it, but it just got stuck out of the way.” 

“Which is why you’re just now finding out about it.” Logan translated. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of it.” 

Virgil sighed, and closed his eyes, rocking his head against Logan’s shoulder. 

“It’s cool, L. I mean, you were pretty miserable when I left. Do you play anything?” 

“... I had piano lessons as a child.” Logan admitted. “My mother thought that music was very much a mathematical thing, especially the piano.”

“I never would have figured you for a rich kid.”

“Oh, we didn’t own a piano.” Logan corrected. “There was an older woman down the block who gave lessons.” 

“Do you remember much?” 

“Not terribly, I was ten when I stopped. I wasn’t particularly interested. I can still read music, but I think I would be hard pressed to produce anything like music.”

“Well, fortunately, we’re not the Goonies, so it shouldn’t come up.”

“Pardon?” Logan sounded confused. “What’s a ‘Goonie’?”

“A missed opportunity, L.” Virgil chuckled and tipped his head so he could look up at him instead. Shifting, he dropped his hand on top of Logan’s and laced their fingers together. Logan gave a gentle squeeze. “You’re avoiding us.” he said quietly. 

“That’s preposterous.” Logan said, trying for dignity. “We’re sharing a room on a not-overly-large boat. I can hardly avoid any of you.” 

“And yet you are.” Virgil retorted. “Roman misses the cuddles.”

“You-”

“I’m not a teddybear, L. I’m not built for it. Besides, don’t you miss it too?”

“It’s especially irritating that you’re not even spurning it for Remus.” Janus said. “Or for that matter, me.” he pushed himself upright, from where they’d both thought he was asleep. “I thought you had nightmares alone.” he added. 

“They’re not as bad as they had been.” Logan dismissed. Janus wrinkled his nose, staring at Logan suspiciously, and climbed out of his bunk.

“Look what you’re making me do. I’m using my legs, disgusting.” He didn’t use them particularly convincingly, stumbling across the cabin, and crawling into the bunk with the two of them, wiggling into the space between Logan and the wall, physically putting Logan’s arm around himself. “Mnn better. Now since I know you’re very fond of it and we’ve got you trapped, I’m going to make you talk.” 

While there were certainly worse places to get trapped, Logan was suddenly very concerned.

“You know what, that makes sense.” Virgil agreed, not letting go of Logan’s hand. “If we get most of it out of the way before tweedle dumb and tweedle dumber come in, things will go smoother.”

“What can I say, I’m good at planning.” Janus said with a smirk. 

“Great, then between the three of this, we can figure out what to do.” Virgil nodded. 

“Wait am I being plotted with or against?” Logan asked, suddenly nervous. 

“That depends on you, beetree.” Janus retorted, looking up at him, eyes still a bit sleepy. “Are you going to talk? I have ways of making you talk.” 

“... ‘According to all known laws of aviation there is no way a bee should be able to fly. It’s wings’-” Virgil put his hand over Logan’s mouth, and Logan raised his eyebrows at him.

“ _That_ one you know.” Virgil choked. “What the hell, L?” 

“Outdated well known ‘facts’ annoy me, so when I kept encountering that text I looked it up.” 

“I should have specified a subject anyway.” Janus grumbled. “Logan, why have you been avoiding us?” 

“As I told Virgil, I’m hardly avoiding anyone-” He stopped when Janus leaned over and bi him on the corner of the jaw- quite gently, all things considered, but distinctly a bite. It was followed by a kiss to the same spot. 

“And I didn’t believe it the first time, so try again.” 

“My best guess is that you think somehow my relationship with Ro somehow invalidates yours.”

“It does predate it.” Logan mumbled. 

“Dude, I thought we went over this. It’s not the same. We want you. Both of us, so if you still want both of us, you uhm. Have us.” Virgil’s face flushed as he finished up. 

“And even if you had some sort of self sacrificing, not interfering with a slow burn sort of story,” Janus pointed out, “That doesn’t explain why you’ve been ignoring Remus, who frankly has been pouting about it, and is getting very hard to keep him from mobbing you.” 

“Ah, that is sort of ‘sour grapes’.” Logan admitted. “Which is ridiculous for many reasons, primarily that Remus expressed actual interest before Roman did, even though technically, Roman knew me first.” 

“He didn’t _know_ you, he was just -” Virgil paused and tried to decide the best way to say it “Crushing on the idea of you. But we all know each other now. We’re not teenagers. We’re fucking adults, going into a dangerous situation, and we… we shouldn’t be distracted by relationship drama when we can talk it out. We can have relationship drama later. Fuel the fantasy Enquirer.” 

“That… that would be the logical course of action.” 

“But of course.” Janus said, picking up the conversation, “We can hardly do that if someone is trying to pretend he doesn’t have feelings, just because jealousy doesn’t suit his stomach.”

“To be fair.” Logan said weakly. “Nothing particularly suits my stomach at the moment.” 

“What was it you said the other day, Virgil? ‘Mood’?” Janus sighed, leaning on Logan’s shoulder. Virgil gave a weak laugh, and raised Logan’s hand where he was holding it to press his cheek against it. It was a little awkward, but it was still nice. 

“So in the interest of transparency.” Virgil said after a long moment, letting their hands drop back down to Logan’s lap. “L, I like you. In a _kissing_ way, as well as a friend way. Even though I …” He stumbled a bit. “Even though Roman. Which is a lot, since Roman can be a lot all on his own.”

Janus sighed, and turned his face so it was pressed against Logan’s chest. 

“Ugh.” he complained. “So earnest. Being such a good example. I may throw up.” He heaved a sigh, holding onto Logan’s arm. “This may come as a complete surprise, Logan, but I have an interest in you, personal, singular. I may have been a bit surprised by you at first, but you’re definitely an asset to my life now, and I would be loath to lose your presence. Even if Remus lost his memory of you, and no longer wanted you around- which is ridiculous, I’ve never seen him so obsessed with someone from the outside, he would immediately latch on again- I still would _personally_ want you close enough to touch, and speak with.” 

“Aw, you like him.” Virgil teased. 

“Yes.” Janus retorted. “I do.” 

Logan felt- full. He felt impossibly heavy and unwilling to move and yet buzzing at the same time. Like he was a hot water bottle full of boiling sparkling wine. Shaking his head to clear it, he saw Virgil and Janus looking at each other thoughtfully across him. 

“Hrm,” Janus said raising his other hand to touch Virgil’s face, gentle fingers on his chin. Virgil gave a small amused snort. “You, however…” 

“Me?” Virgil asked innocently, setting his hand along Janus’s jaw, gentle on the scars. Logan probably would have missed the involuntary shiver in the smaller mage if he hadn’t been so very close. “What about you?” 

“What _about_ me?” He challenged, smirking, as their faces got closer. Logan’s poor gay heart could not take this. 

“Jury’s still out.” Virgil said, shrugging and pulled away, settling comfortably next to Logan again. Janus laughed, a deep chuckle and settled back himself. 

“Well. We have time.” Both of them turned playful smirks on Logan. Logan’s breath caught in his chest, and he shook his head, unable to speak for a moment. 

“You are both terrible.” he said at last. “I can’t believe that I have such deep feelings for either of you, let alone both.” 

The smirks turned more into smiles as he spoke. 

“Is that all we get?” Janus teased.

“Kinda bared my soul there, L.” 

“And yet you didn’t say that you loved me. You just implied it.” He tipped his head toward Virgil, and kissed his forehead. “You’re… you’re important to me. You’re attractive and intelligent and I value both things. I value you. I will attempt to deal with my jealousy and envy in a less… isolating fashion. Especially as it appears unfounded.” 

“I’ll take it.” With a bit of maneuvering, Virgil tucked himself under Logan’s arm without letting go of his hand. 

“As for you-” Logan turned to look at Janus, who gave him a contented, sleepy and completely unconvincing innocent smile. Logan leaned in closer to him. “At some point, you and I will copulate like a pit of snakes in spring.” he said softly. “Remus may or may not be involved but it will be an incredible experience.” He raised an eyebrow. “Look forward to it. In the meantime, I will remain pleased to be a heat pack and verbal sparring partner for you, as well as another hand on Remus’s child harness when needed.” 

Janus’s face actually reddened visibly, flush stark against the lighter colored scars, and his eyes wide.

“How dare you say something like that when I am _this_ nauseous.” he gaped. “My body is betraying me in every blasted direction.” He pressed his hot face into Logan’s neck, clutching at the neck of his shirt. 

“Well you bit me.” Logan sniffed. 

“And I’ll do it again.” Janus grumbled. “And you’ll _like_ it.” 

“Dirty talk, really?” Virgil snorted, amused. “Don’t I get any?” 

“Eventually, Virgil, the dam will break and we will _all_ end up sore for at least a week.” Logan said with a sense of finality. Virgil flushed as well, but hid his laughter in Logan’s shoulder. Logan sighed, arms around them and while he still felt thick with boiling effervescent emotions, he also felt content to be having them. 

“So-” Logan said innocently, since he was apparently not going to be getting back to his book. “You and Patton, Janus? I can’t say that I would have expected that.” 

Janus let out the most ridiculously offended gasp.

"He's been telling tales. That bastard."

"So it's true, is it?" Logan continued mildly.

"How much did he say, no it isn't true in the least-!" given that he was blushing again, it was not Janus's most convincing deception. 

“Oh, I want to hear this story.” Virgil laughed. “I’m glad someone has hooked up with Pat at some point; I mean, I’ve got two hands and they’re both full at the moment, but he is pretty built.” 

“He was less built at the time.” Janus mumbled petulantly as if that made a difference. “Frankly, between then and now, Pat is practically a different person. Well physically, he’s gained muscle, and his hair’s silver now. I mean it’s a look and a half, would _definitely_ call him daddy now.”

Virgil gave a horrified yelp and Logan squeaked, much to his embarrassment, and Janus just grinned at them.

“Oh you wanted on this train, I will take you on this trip.” 

“Wait- before you attempt to mortify us with tales of your teenage sexual exploits; trains?”

“.... yes? Transport, mostly used for cargo, runs on rails? They’re more popular in Snoaj, Sanders doesn’t have much of a network- surely you saw one of the foundries in Smithport?” 

“I had not, but that’s very interesting.” Logan hummed thoughtfully. “I keep forgetting that Sanders isn’t actually analogous to any particular historical period.” 

Janus gave a long suffering sigh. 

“What is it with you technology types? Any world that chooses a different comfort level is somehow primitive.” He gave them a rather excellent condescending stare. “And what kind of magic do you all have? Basic sleight of hand a street thief can master. Take that, science.” 

It was such a ridiculous thing to say that Logan actually started laughing, and didn’t manage to stop until he’d made himself sick from it and had to lie down and suck on a piece of candied ginger for a bit. 

They never did get to hear about Janus’s teenaged shenanigans. 

That night, they spotted lights from the mainland on the horizon, and Logan slept soundly, held close against Remus’s chest. 

Compared to Smithport, Port Taripin was small, and tawdry. It was not a center of industry- it was a place ships stopped to resupply and repair on their journeys. There were a great deal of taverns, and entertainments, as well as Salim had said, an excellent dry dock for repairs, which was an unexpected boon, as the Ravensflower had developed a leak they couldn’t quite fix on their own. As kind as the crew had been, Logan would be perfectly happy not to set foot on a ship ever again. He’d started to say so and found himself silenced by Janus who just shook his head. It occurred to Logan that Janus had known what being on a ship was like before they’d started, and still got on. In fact, given that Remus had indicated a familiarity with ships, and the information that Janus had been his companion for years would suggest- that saying never again was a pretty short route to being sure to end up back aboard a ship. 

Logically, Logan knew that if it became necessary, nothing he said or didn’t say would affect the outcome. Still a little superstition couldn’t hurt too much if it didn’t change his actual behavior. Given some of the unusual things that he had been dealing with, perhaps some superstitions could be considered more doing things for perfectly good reasons that he did not see the connections to yet. That was sort of a fascinating concept, but it would be very difficult to test. 

In the meantime, he found himself dancing with Janus around the edges of a table, in a not overly large and rundown room. Despite his distaste for movement while seasick, Janus was concerned- perhaps needlessly, that he had lost muscle tone while they were journeying. Logan couldn’t see any difference, but when Janus explained what his dance-like exercises were for, Logan couldn’t help but be curious- after all he still hadn’t found any kind of replacement for the exercise he was no longer getting at the gym. He would have been skeptical if he hadn’t seen the more serious dancers in the class he took. Within a half an hour of following along with Janus he had every faith this would be effective enough. Virgil had seen them and rather than join in, he’d sat on the table and played them music to dance to. They after all were not exploring the entertainments the port offered, of course, given what they’d seen of it, that was hardly enticing. 

The best that Port Taripin had to offer was a far cry from the Lavender Wreath, but Barnacle’s Feathers at least had options for long term occupancy for a larger group. Remus said that they likely wouldn’t be there more than a week; there were messages waiting for them that he was sorting through with Roman. While it was theoretically possible to send messages via magic, it was safer and easier to send them physically, so that was mostly what the Resistance did. The main message sent was confirming their presence and their destination so they could receive these messages. There was a surprising amount of paperwork in revolution, apparently. There were messages with seals from nobles- some of them heirs, some of them actual heads of the houses, often sending gossip about other houses’s allegiance. Some were cautious, some were bold. 

“It’s like reading a slam book.” Roman groaned. “Are they attempting to prove that they’re on our side by telling us how terrible their neighbors are?”

“Well, essentially.” Remus looked half asleep, scratching along his chin. “Politics.”

“Ugh.”

“Ugh.” he agreed. 

“This guy.” Roman shook the letter he was reading. “Wants to be bribed for taking part. I mean, rewarded I understand, but if I wanted to pay for support I’d hire mercenaries!” 

“That’s this pile.” Remus tapped his finger on a pile in front of him. It only was only a few sheets, but they had offers. “They’re like vultures, only they smell worse. They smell war, and want to feed on it.” 

“Is it going to be all out war?”

Remus frowned. 

“By my guess, we’re going to have a few pitched battles; if only to distract the army from our taking the capital. If I’ve any guess, we’re not going to be in them. I mean, I like some carnage, but I don’t think you’d be suited to it.”

Roman sighed, and picked up a pen, then set it back down. 

“Mess do you think I’m soft?” 

“Wow fuck. Just put me on the spot and shoot me.” Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes.” 

“No, don’t soften the blow, tell it how it is.” Roman laughed. 

“If you want soft blows go to your boyfriends.” Remus retorted, sticking his tongue into his cheek to push it out a bit. “You _are_ soft. That’s not… necessarily a bad thing. You’re nice. You’re kind. You want things to be fair. Is all that bullshit gonna make your life hard? Abso-fucking-lutely. Are they bad traits? Not so much. Somebody’s gotta be those things, or the world’d be a bigger shitpile than it is.” 

“Thanks.” Roman shook his head, and picked up the pen again. 

“Need help coming up with a reply?” 

“Nah, being grandiose and polite is something I’m good at.” 

“Glad one of us is.” Remus slit open another message. “Oh ho! I thought I knew that seal.” He scanned the message quickly. “This is it; this is what we were waiting for; this is from Grand General Amorea. She knew our father;”

Roman’s hand jerked, and he swore, blotting at the ink. Remus didn’t seem to notice it. Even their uncle hadn’t mentioned their birth father, just their mother, his sister. The previous king of Sanders had died when they were barely a year old. It was hard to think of having any real relationship to him. Roman didn’t even know what he looked like. 

“She’s got a good reputation and a lot of the military higher ups will still listen to her- at least the older ones. Connections, you know.” He reread the message and checked for simple cypher automatically. “She wants to meet with us. Invites us to visit her estate at Victory’s Head.” 

“What’s the chances of this being a trap?”

“Fair to middling.” Remus replied thoughtfully. “It’s her seal, the handwriting looks right, and the signature looks like how I remember it. She’s a bit standoffish, but isn’t in the usurper’s pocket. She probably wants to judge you herself.” 

“I say put it in the ‘to do’ pile.” Roman nodded. “I’ll send her a message back and say we can meet. Where’s Victory’s Head?” 

“Not even a fortnight’s ride from here. Patton’s already looking into getting us mounts, a courier could manage to do a loop before we leave if you get a message off this afternoon.” 

“What’s taking so long, they’re just horses.” Roman grumbled. “I’ll do it when I’m done with this guy.” He paused and looked up at Remus. “Wait I know that look that’s a ‘something just got added to the list of things Roman knows shit about’ look.” 

Remus snorted. “Don’t get your nuts in a vice, on the list of ‘things Roman should know and doesn’t’ the difference between a good horse and a bad one is pretty low. I mean fuck, some people never learn it.” He made notes on the back of the envelope in pencil, and then added it to the ‘immediate’ pile. “Shit, some people never learn it or get good at it. It’s on the list of ‘get someone else to be good at it.’” 

“I both love and hate that list.” Roman said conversationally, before turning his attention back to what he was doing. If Remus was going to be honest, Roman’s beautiful, clear calligraphy with a dip pen was one of the things he hadn’t been expecting. Remus himself was legible but that was the best that could be said for him. “That oughta do it, you wanna check to make sure I didn’t accidentally say something that will make things worse?” Roman passed the letter over, and Remus scanned it,bursting out laughing. 

“You did great. This is fabulous. You have invited him to go fuck himself in a way he might enjoy the trip and not even realize that it was the intention.”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck nervously 

“Not too much?” 

“Not from what you said about his letter, here let me-” Remus compared the missives thoughtfully. “... I woulda been a lot more blunt frankly.” 

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m answering the letters.” 

Remus cackled as Roman collected the letter and put it in the finished pile. Picking up the message from the General, he looked it over, drumming his fingers against his jaw thoughtfully. 

“The best part about this-” Roman said, drawing another piece of paper towards himself and starting a reply “Is if we head out, we won’t be centralized and there will be less of this-” he waved at the piles on the table between them. 

“This _is_ less- Janus and Patton already sorted out the bullshit.” 

“Thanks I hate it.” Roman sighed, and handed the completed reply to Remus. “I think both of us should sign this one, since the original message was addressed to you; so read it over.” 

“‘To Grand General Amorea-’” Remus read and mumbled through the message “ ‘Will delay our arrival until we have received permission to enter your estate’ that’s good- polite and wary ‘look forward to the pleasure of getting acquainted with you’ -that’s a stock phrase and a half, nice job.” Remus nodded, and grabbed his pen, signing quickly, leaving space for Roman to sign above him. 

“When can I get a fountain pen instead?” Roman grumbled, signing carefully. “I mean, I can use dip pens, but I can’t believe you guys had them and didn’t tell me. I could have gotten one before we left. Here I was trying to be good and not anachronistic, and I’m suffering for it.” 

“Like you don’t have a twenty pack of sharpies in your stuff.” Remus teased. 

“And am I using them? No!” Roman retorted. He turned and grabbed a small box, pulling a candle out of it, and fitting it to the low holder the box contained. “Okay, I’m going to try the lighter spell you taught me.” 

Simple spells, like a lighter spell or a lock spell were within the grasp of anyone with the necessary concentration to learn them, and upon discovering that, Roman had immediately begged to do so. Trigger or hurry up’ spells weren't even thought of as magic by the Marked Mages. The reason witches and lower mages thought of them like that was because they could imbue objects with the spell, and sell the result for people who lacked the concentration to use them normally. More complex spells such as a floating light, cleaning a wound without touching it, moving a small object across the room or driving out and killing bugs were generally considered witchcraft. Witchcraft was the lowest form of what was considered ‘true’ magic. From the outside, Roman thought it all looked like magic and people were being unnecessarily particular. More importantly, he concentrated on his thumb and first two fingers, and snapped next to the candle wick. He had a lighter, but if he was going to be stuck in an alternate world murdering people, he was at least going to be able to light candles with a snap. 

It took a couple tries but the candle lit on the third snap. Roman tried not to feel too pleased with himself, instead preparing the seal wax and it’s melting spoon. He’d played around with seals of course, he had one with his initials on it, which was back in the drawer of his desk at home. Roman ran his fingers over the ring on his right thumb, tipping it so he could see the inset stone and engraved surface, the oval showing a lion with a crown around its neck holding a shield marked with an incredibly fancy ‘S’ It wasn’t too much larger than a class ring. The area was less than a square inch, but the longer Roman looked at it, the more details he could see picked out in the carving. In the larger lower curve of the S it was split open and fruits and flowers poured out, surrounding a stylized sun in glory.

Remus had shown him his own seal ring, which he tended to wear on a chain around his neck more than on his hand, but was of similar size and shape- the oval seal being a narrower area, the stone green instead of red, with an octopus wearing a crown and holding the same fancy ‘S’ in it’s curling tentacles, flowers and a crescent decorating the ‘S’.

Roman held his hand up and twisted it letting light glint off the gold of the band and the crimson of the stone. In the end, fetching his seal from where his mother had put it had been almost inconsequential. 

Roman could have sworn that they had walked into the carved out rooms of the cliff, but as they stepped into the domed primary chamber, light glinted down from arched ceilings. The hall they had stepped into was a circular shape, wrought iron staircases leading up to a second- and even a third level above them. Roman could see that there were at least two more rooms that branched off from this one. Set into the walls were niches, with what looked like glass fronts, the glass slightly frosted, making it hard to see what was inside them. The glass itself was etched and gilded in patterns. This was the Great Vault of mages; Marked Mages could earn or purchase a space, which once attuned to them and their bloodline could only be opened by them. If a bloodline died out, the lock failed, and the belongings within fell to the ownership of the Circle. Some had more conventional glass fronts, and behind those, Roman could see skeletons or urns. Apparently there was more than one way to earn a place in the Great Vault. 

Remus knew that their mother had a vault, and that she’d put Roman’s seal in it after the Cuts had closed, but he’d never seen it personally. Russell had reminded them about the vault and it’s contents, but he wasn’t permitted to bring Roman there; his presence, like Remus’s might muddle the opening. Roman recognized that this was a test, so he smiled and agreed, accompanying Alisabeth through long hallways, deep into the complex of the Circle’s Center. 

They weren’t alone; they’d been accompanied by two burly marked mages that put even Patton’s bulk to shame. They had bands of tattoos in symbols Roman didn’t recognize around their biceps, and representational tattoos on their lower arms. The larger of them had two, a kite-shaped shield on his left arm, and then a second round shield on his palm, his other arm displaying a spear. His companion had a blade tattooed on the inside of each of her arms, and then smaller knives along her fingers. Another woman, slightly younger than Alisabeth also accompanied them, showing a filigree of tattoo in a crown across her forehead, curling down under each eye. Test or no, Patton was allowed to accompany Roman, and frankly, he was kind of glad, since he felt outnumbered. Frankly, just the large guards would have made him feel outnumbered even without the elder and her companion, who were almost certainly powerful mages of one sort or another. Patton explained the guards were very specific sort of mages. The larger guard even smiled and displayed it by summoning what looked like a just very faintly transparent shield to his arm. 

As they entered the Vault, a white haired older man approached them, his cottony hair pulled back into a single braid down the back of his neck and his eyes bright. Like a sunburst, there was a collar made up of different keys visible against his dark skin through the open neck of his shirt, and each wrist sported a similar decoration. 

“Ah, and here you are.” he said. “Welcome Alisabeth, welcome Medea. And welcome to you as well, Patton Foster. And look at this.” He reached out his hands toward Roman who awkwardly reached out in return, allowing his hands to be clasped by the older gentleman. “You definitely have the look of Lupe.” 

He squeezed his hands, and smiled brilliantly. Roman couldn’t help but smile in return.

“It’s my pleasure to meet you sir.” Roman offered. 

“My name is Lyndon, and I’m the tender of the vaults.” 

“I’m not supposed to somehow tell which one is Mom’s am I?” Roman asked, looking around the elegantly carved room, and sparing another glance up at the ceiling, which was painted, as well as giving off light. “Because this is a big place.”

“Bigger even than it looks!” Lyndon told him cheerfully. “No, you only need to open it, I will show you the way to Lupe’s vault. Or Foster might.”

“Oh no.” Patton shook his head, “I was only with Lupe once when she came, I think it might have been in that direction.” he pointed. “But that’s all I’ve got.”

Lyndon laughed. 

“A good start.” Letting go of Roman’s hands, he led them away through the vaults. 

Lupe’s vault wasn’t especially big, when they reached it, a niche of frosted glass. Like most of the rest, that hid what was inside. Everyone waited looking expectantly at Roman. 

“So not being a mage, do I get a hint?” Roman asked desperately. “I don’t even know how a lock spell works.”

Medea, Alisabeth’s companion laughed quietly. 

“Well, little prince, if it wasn't magic, how would it open?” 

Roman frowned at the niche, and reached out, touching the glass. It was smooth and cool under his fingers. Whatever the decoration was it must have been on the inside as he couldn’t feel it. After touching the window, he ran his fingertips over the edge of the frame, pausing at the corners. There were dips, about the size of a thumb print. They felt warmer than the rest of the frame, even before he rested his thumbs on them. For a moment, it felt like he was holding someone’s hand. Then he pushed with the tips of his finger against the edge of the frame, and the sensation of electricity ran through it, like licking a battery, only with his fingers. The glass fell into his hands and he caught it awkwardly. 

The Vault had opened. Patton was smiling at him pleased as punch, and held out his hands, offering to take the glass panel.

“That’s it?” Roman asked, surprised. “I’m not going to lie, I was expecting to bleed in here.” 

“Do you _want_ to bleed?” asked the female guard, sounding amused. 

“No, I’ll pass.” Roman ducked down a bit to look into his mother’s Vault. There were a few pieces of jewelry, an envelope, a journal and few things that looked like the magical tools he’d seen Russell using. None of that seemed right. There was something in there that… that belonged to him, that was the only way Roman was able to describe it. He reached in and past the jewelry, pushing it aside. Half hidden behind the envelope was a small box made out of thin strips of wood. He pulled it out, cupped in his hands, looking at the box. It was painted in the same sort of child-careful way it was constructed. 

“I made this.” Roman said quietly. “I remember making it, and I gave it to Mom for Mother’s day. Look-” he traced the lid. “I drew the Disney Castle on the top. I was trying to drop a hint.” he laughed, weakly. “I- can almost remember the villa. Going there and riding horses, and going to the ocean. I was traveling to a whole different world, almost every weekend, and _I_ wanted to go to Disney World for my birthday.” 

“Okay, to be fair,” Patton giggled. “Disney World is pretty cool.”

Roman opened the box, and peered inside. He turned the small box upside down, the lid swinging on yarn hinges, and into his hand dropped a gold ring. His fingers closed around it immediately, and he pulled it towards his chest, closing his eyes. 

“Roman?” Patton asked. 

“I just... I remember wearing clothes that scratched at the collar and cuffs. And shoes that were so very shiny, but I was too busy being proud of myself because I was doing something so important. There was a box… a treasure box. And I had to reach it and choose something.” He opened his hand, and the ring had migrated to resting around his thumb, where it fit perfectly. “Huh.” He turned it back and forth. “It’s my ring.” he said “Why wasn’t it with me?” 

Alisabeth came over, taking his hand by the fingers and bringing the ring up close to her face to examine. 

“Well,” she said dryly. “The seal of the Heir can’t very well leave Sanders, can it? Not through a Cut. Lupe would have had to have you leave it here in Sanders when she took you away. The same reason she brought it here to keep it safe.”

“Why?”

“Well, if Cadmus had gotten his hands on it, he could have destroyed it, and that would have weakened your oath to Sanders.” the mage frowned a bit and looked over at the rest of the vault. “If someone had gotten into the Vault, past Lyndon, and found Lupe’s niche and broken into it rather than opening it, they probably would have disregarded that box as sentimental trash, taking the other objects.” 

Letting her continue to look at the ring, Roman looked back at the contents thoughtfully. He took the envelope, tucking it under his arm, and picked up the book. 

“Uh, I’m going to need my hand.” He reclaimed his hand, tucking the book and the letter into his shirt, before taking the sheet of glass back from Patton, pressing it back into place. It clicked gently. 

“You’re not taking everything?” Alisabeth seemed surprised. 

“She’s not dead.” Roman said firmly. “I don’t know where Mom is, but she’s still alive. I don’t have use for her jewelry, or her magic tools. I’m only here for this.” he raised his off hand, where the ring was. “And for whatever proof you got out of watching me do it.”

Roman shook his head. He’d stuck the envelope and the journal into his luggage and hadn’t really thought about them since. Remus had almost gotten Roman to believe that he was supposed to rub his blood on the seal after it cooled to make the design sand out. Roman would have just accepted it as how things were done. 

Fortunately for Roman, Logan had not been taught that, and called Remus out before he’d gotten too used to the idea. Remus admitted that blood was used on certain documents however, but it called for a specific kind of wax. 

Roman poured the wax from the spoon onto the envelope, and pressed the seal in place, passing it over to Remus, who repeated the process with his ring on a second blob of wax, as Roman went along sealing the various other letters he’d written that afternoon. 

“Let’s call this done for now?” he asked Remus. “We’ve looked over all the messages,” he tapped his sealed stack into a neat pile. “And answered all the urgent ones.”

“Good plan.” Remus rolled his neck. “Get the kinks out, visit a bathhouse.” 

“That does sound good.” Roman got to his feet with a groan, and pinched out the candle, putting everything away. 

“So…” Remus said conversationally. 

“Yeah?” 

“Armpits.” 

There was a pause and Roman just stared at his brother. 

“Also, anilingus.” he added thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “But I figure everyone should take a swipe at that-” 

“What the fuck?”

“Just getting the kinks out.” he grinned and dodged out of the way as Roman swatted at him, laughing.

“You’re _disgusting_! Why would you just say something like that?!” 

“So- not one of yours?” he wiggled his eyebrows at Roman and got hit in the face with a bag of messages. Roman was laughing though, so Remus thought he could call it a win. 

“There really is no winning transport wise.” Virgil said in distaste.

“I didn’t think I’d get to like horses myself.” Logan offered to Virgil. “But one gets used to their personalities.”

“Yeah, that’s what’s upsetting me.” Virgil wrinkled his nose, staring at the animals.

“We could get you a pony instead? Or a donkey? They’re shorter.” Patton offered. “They’re very nice horses, if it helps.” 

Virgil sighed explosively, bangs fluffing momentarily. 

“No I just- why can’t we get like a wagon or something?”

“We could, if we wanted half the distance we could cross in a day.” Remus told him. “Not to mention if something goes wrong, these long legged beasties can take us cross country, out of the way of patrols, can’t do that in a wagon.” 

“I would prefer not to.” Logan said blandly. Remus ducked under a horse’s neck to kiss Logan’s temple. 

“I know, honey trap, I know. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes. 

“Do you want a kiss too?” Remus offered.

“Keep your whiskery nightmare of a face to yourself, Possum.” Virgil snorted. 

“No.” Remus kissed Logan again, and then went over and kissed Janus- then kissed Patton and his brother on the cheek for good measure. He only got away with that because Roman had his hands full balancing the load on the pack horse under Patton’s supervision, and he still aimed a kick at Remus as he danced away. “And now you’re the odd man out, ‘Coonie.”

“Story of my life.” retorted Virgil. 

“Here pass me that thing.” Remus pointed to some tack that was hanging behind Virgil. He fastened it behind the saddle of one of the horses, in place of saddlebags. 

“Okay, I’ll bite.” Virgil said at last. “What is it?”

“I figured if you were going to bitch so much you could ride like one.” Remus patted the pad. 

“Technically that’s called a pillion pad.” Logan commented, managing to hide most of his amusement. “For riding passenger on a horse.” 

“Okay then.” Virgil’s face seemed somewhere between laughing and screaming. After a few minutes, he got a hold of himself. “When did you learn this shit, L?” 

Logan looked momentarily embarrassed. “I may have… spent longer than I should have wikipedia diving the night I got back. I printed out a few articles that seemed important- such as common horse tack, first aid, and rough camping and made a simple booklet.” Shrugging he added. “Given that I knew Sanders would be different there wasn’t much I could research, but I thought information about skills I didn’t have might be useful. Also I learned that Sanders is a common surname, related to sandalwood, which was used, ground into a fine powder, as a spice.”

“Whoa.” Virgil blinked. “And here I just thought of Sanders as the guy I was going to vote for.” He bumped shoulders in a companionable way with Logan, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder for a moment. “You’ve got a soothing voice.”

“Thank you?” 

“So who’m I riding bitch with?” 

Frankly, Virgil would have rather been asleep, which was perhaps, part of the source of his annoyance. They were in the pink part of morning, having been woken while it was still grey and dim, decamping from their rooms at the Barnacle’s Feather. 

The night before, Patton had brought a string of horses, apparently unnamed beyond ‘the one with the spots’, all of them mares, except one gelding. Roman had immediately named them all after Disney princesses, frankly agonizing far too long over which horse was named what, petting them and gazing soulfully into their eyes. Patton, meanwhile, had insisted the gelding packhorse was named Bill. Honestly, Virgil didn’t really care what they were called. He just eyed the animals with the same suspicion they eyed him. 

“You can ride behind me.” Roman assured him. “Bill’s all loaded up.” 

Remus gave a brief inspection of the rest of the horses. 

“Right, we can ride out anytime then.” 

“If you think I’m getting on one of those things without a cup of coffee at least, you’re out of your mind.” 

“Agreed.” Logan chimed in. There was a beat and then Roman and Remus raced towards the kitchens. Logan sighed. “They’d better bring enough for everyone.” 

“As lover’s tokens go, bringing you coffee is pretty sweet.” Patton commented. “Oh, speaking of-” he followed the twins at a more sedate pace. 

They did bring enough coffee for everyone, and Patton had followed with a basket of sweet, fruit filled bread. Even with the impromptu breakfast, the sun was just barely showing over the horizon as they left town, heading northwest, with Virgil sat comfortably behind Roman ignoring Remus’s jokes in favor of tucking his arms around his friend, resting his face on Roman’s shoulder and managing- somehow- to go back to sleep. 

By evening they’d made it to a larger trade road, and headed north towards Victory’s Head. Logan felt a wave of the most ridiculous nostalgia as they traveled. He didn’t even enjoy these rough nights; but somehow, with the six of them around the fire, it felt so much more relaxed than the same time spent in a lodging of some sort. He did miss mattresses, however primitive. Neither of the twins was particularly suited to the role, sadly. Logan couldn't help but feel that any happiness he felt was on a timer. They were on their way to speak to a general; there was no talking around it; there was going to be a revolution.

People would die. Things would change. And when it was over- and Logan cautiously allowed himself to believe that they would win, that they would survive.There was no telling what would happen then. Perhaps he would return to Florida, to his job and his steady life- a life that suddenly seemed boring, when it never had before. Perhaps he would remain in Sanders, become a courtesan, or maybe a bookbinder. Perhaps he'd only remain in Sanders for whatever the duration of a romantic relationship was, and then return to Florida. Perhaps he'd write a book. Two even; maybe more if he wanted to make up a more satisfying ending for the Heir of Fire Mountain. If it wasn't him, there was definitely a sequel in that. Logan didn't even realise that he'd dozed off staring at the fire and thinking until Roman helped him get to his bedroll, warm and comfortable and tucked safely between two bodies.

As they journeyed up the road, they passed towns, some large, some small. They didn't however stop in any of them. Instead two people would go into town, and the rest would wait on the other side for them to join them. Often it was Remus and Patton. Janus had only gone once, and returned with a pinched expression on his face, as well as supplies, and from that point on had stuck with the group that waited. Roman went with Patton a few times, returning with far too much fresh food, and once a flower crown, which was a vast improvement over the time Remus and Roman went into a larger town together, and returned three hours later than they'd been expected without supplies and with a black eye (Roman) and a broken nose (Remus). No one was particularly surprised, but that had been the reason they'd been avoiding towns with visible garrisons. Which had not prevented them from running into a squad collecting taxes and terrorizing a Marked Mage and their witch assistant.

“Really, I don't think we should be in trouble.” Roman protested. “It would have been completely inappropriate to walk away.”

“We might have done it-” Remus admitted, grimacing as Janus prodded at his face. “Or maybe been subtle- only they had a branding iron.”

“A branding iron?”

“Grabbed it from the blacksmith.” Roman said.

“It was a farrier, but yeah.” Remus agreed.

“Tossed the Mage on the ground and stepped on their arm. They were going to burn the mark off.” Roman looked a little ill in memory. “Given that, I kind of wish I'd gotten involved earlier.”

“Wonderful.” Janus grumbled. He ran his hands down Remus's face gently then pressed his thumbs together.

“Son of a motherfuckin-” Swore Remus trying not to jerk away as his nose was put back in place.

“Just wonderful.” Janus scraped his nails along the edge of his chin, gathering a handful of sparks and let them jump to the bridge of Remus's nose making him swear again, but the swelling went down. “Two fantastically memorable identical faces, getting into fights with the usurper's men. That's not suspicious at all! That's not going to get a search going!”

“Well on the plus side, I don't think anyone in town will tell on us?” Roman offered. “Call it a grassroots recruitment tactic?”

“They did have a wanted poster for me; not you though.” Remus mumbled to Janus, gingerly dabbing tears away with a bit of sleeve.

“They don't need to 'tell on us'. We're four days' ride from Victory's Head, how many places could the two of you be heading?” Janus snarled.

“That is why we were so late.” Roman shrugged. “We rode south, met some farmers, lied a lot, and looped around. I don't feel great about it, but...” he gave a little laugh. “We should probably get going anyway.”

“Ugh..” Janus dragged his hands down his face. “You're going to still have a black eye in four days, this is just great, diplomacy gold. Roman get over here.” Roman approached Janus cautiously.

“I'm fine; Mess's nose was the worst of it. I mean I've got a burn on my boot, but I'm fine and-” he stopped talking as Janus pulled him down and kissed his cheek.

“You're a good man, Roman. I'm glad you couldn't turn away.” Then he smacked him on the shoulder, which made him yelp since he'd hit a bruise. “But you're a fucking idiot. Let's get going.”

“Don't I get a kiss?” Remus said as he offered Janus a hand to mount, which the mage ignored.

“No, I'm mad at you, because I _know_ you egged him on.”

Logan wished that he had a map of Sanders, and was quite cross with himself that it hadn't occurred to him before now. He'd noticed the ground rising, and as the wind came in at night, caught the scent of the sea for the first time in over a week. He peered up at the night sky, and tried to compare it to what he'd seen on the Ravensflower. They'd gone east, and then mostly north. At least there was a north star, like back in Florida, even if it wasn't part of the same distinctive constellation that he was used to.

“What'ca lookin at?” Remus came out of the darkness, and Logan managed not to jump. “You look really pretty in the dark, you know.”

“And you move very quietly.” Logan retorted. “I was looking at the stars, and wondering about the constellations here.” Remus insinuated himself around Logan, resting his chin on the other man's shoulder. “I got a book on the stories, but the illustrations hardly do the sky justice.”

“Nah, you'd want a real star chart for that.” Remus agreed. “So why?”

“I have no idea where we are, and it suddenly bothered me. Earlier I could smell the ocean, but I thought we'd moved inland.”

“I don't know how to break it to you, but the coast isn't a straight line.”

“Well obviously, but I don't know what it looks like.”

“... oh holy shit.” Remus laughed, then grunted

“Are you alright?”

“Mnn still a little sore. I have a map.” he added, almost nonsequitor. “And I haven't shown you because it didn't occur to me, but you fuckin' loved the map back in Gurinknot so I feel a little stupid.”

Logan blinked a few times.

“I assure you we are both stupid, because it never occurred to me that one of you must, as you mentioned you'd never been to Victory's Head before. Is that the name of a feature or an estate?”

“Technically both? The estate's named after the headland. We'll be hitting the cliff road tomorrow, and unless we go slow, be getting there tomorrow afternoon.”

“Speaking of hitting, aren't you afraid of making a poor impression, coming in looking like a brawler?”

Remus gave another hoot of a laugh, just a trifle too loud for comfort given their positions.

“LoLo, I have a _reputation_. I'd be more ashamed comin' in like a courtier.” He paused. “Patton's giving Ro his best healing whammy as we speak. He'll look a little green, but it won't be so visible. Feel a little bad about that.”

“I am absolutely certain that Roman's nobility of character had as much to do with your shenanigan as your puggalist tendencies.”

“aw, you say the sweetest things.” Remus dropped a kiss on Logan's neck, just above where his collar sat, but then tucked his chin back over the other man's shoulder, arms wrapped around him comfortably. After a long silence, where they could hear the faint sounds of the others behind them, Remus nuzzled his ear. “Wanna get freaky in the bushes?”

“Alas, some other time.” Logan retorted. “The stars are disappearing to the west, and I am fairly certain that means there's rain coming in.” He turned his head and kissed Remus's cheek. “Besides, I'd hate to risk re-breaking your nose for the sake of subpar fellatio.”

“Who says it'd be subpar?”

“I prefer my partners to be able to breathe.”

“Well, cross one off the possible kink list.” Remus snorted, but winced, rather making Logan's point. A cold, wet wind blew across them, holding a hint of saltwater, and Remus took his hand, leading him back to the shelter.

The next morning was still wet and gray, the rain that settled in during the night lingering, and making them slow to get moving. It was almost noon when they hit the cliff road Remus had mentioned. He had shown Logan the map along with his coffee, pointing out Port Taripin, and the little squares that indicated towns along their route, some marked in graphite with little letters indicating who'd gone in and one with an interobang, which by Logan's guess was where they'd gotten into the fight. Logan was mildly interested in the fact that the estate they were headed to was marked with a different mark than either the port or the towns. Given how long it took them to reach where the trade road met the cliffside road, Logan wasn't sure he liked their chances of reaching the estate by nightfall. He didn't say anything however, being more concerned with wrapping up in his cloak and scarf against the wind, and keeping his horse following the others. The cliff road was well named; while the road wasn't right along the cliff, it was close enough that looking to the west showed them the sea beyond where the land dropped off, and the faint roar of the surf at the bottom was just faintly audible.

The sun set in the west, and so there was still light in the sky but only barely when they first spotted their destination.

It wasn't a town, or an estate, it was a fortress, perched on the headlands above the sea, a curtain extending like arms to circle the dim, light-dotted shapes of buildings further down.

“It's a castle!” Roman said excitedly, loud enough that everyone heard him. Remus laughed.

“Technically it's a fortified keep, kiddo.” Patton responded. “You weren't that excited by the Circle's Center.”

“Okay, to be perfectly honest, a lot of the time my brain looked at it and said 'oh, CGI' it was so impressive it was unreal. That- that's a castle. A real castle.”

Virgil started laughing quietly.

“Shut up!” Roman said, sounding like he was almost laughing. “It's not funny All Time Lover. I am absolutely not the only one to think shit like that.”

Logan urged his horse- the one Roman had dubbed 'Belle'- up beside them.

“As loathe as I am to encourage him, he's absolutely right, I have caught myself thinking 'how was this effect accomplished' when looking at some things.”

“I'm not saying it's not true!” Virgil snorted. “I'm just saying it's ridiculous.”

“Ah. Well that's not untrue.” Logan agreed. “But given our situation, a little bit of unreality is not unusual or unexpected. Virgil nodded, and reached out, leaning slightly in the saddle of the roan horse he'd finally made a truce with, and Logan reached back letting their fingers touch for a moment of contact. Just as they did Remus called from the head of the group.

“Heads up, I think we can make a mile or two, so we're gonna gallop. Hold onto your nuts.”

“Thanks for the warning, Poss.” Virgil groaned, just as Remus kicked his horse into motion and the others perked their heads up and followed the herd instinct.


	8. .Book Eight.

It was well past dusk and it was starting to rain again when they made it to the village below the castle

“Good evening gentlemen.” a woman came out carrying a lantern that gave a silvery-green light; a shard of crystal in a cage. The gate wasn't closed, but it was visible, sturdy wood bound in iron.There were a couple of people wearing leather curiasses and sword belts lounging against it. “Welcome to Victory's Head. I'm glad you made it tonight, there's a blow coming in. General Amorea is waiting for you.”

Roman smiled warmly, and offered his hand. His eyes only widened slightly when instead of shaking it, the woman bowed politely over it.

“Uhm-” he said, thrown off. “It's a pleasure to meet you; are you here specifically to meet us?”

“Yes, I'm Parslie, General Amore's chatelaine. Our lookout saw your approach on the south cliff road, and we have been expecting you, your highness, your grace.” Without taking his hand, she gave a half-bow to Remus, before she nodded to the rest of the party. “Come now, if we delay too much longer the cook will throw a fit.”

The road up to the keep wiggled back and forth, which made it longer, as it passed by shops and homes. There were lanterns much like the one Parslie carried hung at regular intervals however. Glancing down other streets as they passed Logan didn't see similar lighting.

“Is only the path to the keep lit?” he asked. Parslie startled a little bit, looking back at Logan thoughtfully.

“Nicely spotted. Yes, in case something goes wrong, we want our people to be able to find the keep no matter what. We use this color because it's gentler on the eyes at night.” She smiled, and Logan noticed her ears twitched against her hair as she did, her pupils blown wider than he'd ever seen on a human in any situation. “There are luminance caves in these cliffs, so we have plenty. If you're interested in that kind of thing, there's a cove a few miles from here where luminance washes up in all colors. Mostly too small to be very useful, but they're tumbled smooth instead of faceted, and the beach glows in the dark. One of those natural wonders.”

“Someday I hope to have the opportunity.” Logan agreed. They turned another switchback and then the rest of the road was a straight shot to the keep.

There was a secondary wall separating the keep from the town, and those gates were closed until Parslie led them up to it, and they swung open at a wave of her lantern. In the courtyard, which was lit with more conventional lamps, covering it in golden light, a handful of people in matching tunic vests came out, and nodded to Parslie.

“You can leave your horses with these young sters here.” she directed. “And Noime and Payton will take your luggage to the guest chambers.”

Roman smiled brightly at the stable hands who honestly looked so young to him and introduced them all to the horses, which seemed to amuse them. Virgil meanwhile was looking at the servants who were unfastening their saddlebags, with a much more measuring and less friendly expression.

In the increased light, Parslie proved to be an older middle aged woman with light golden brown skin, sprinkled with freckles and dark brown hair highlighted with golden blond, just gaining some silver streaks at the temples, which wound up into twin buns on the top of her head. The top edge of her ear showed fur, and a faint scar ran through her right eyebrow. She wore a knee length dress and leggings with boots, decorated with embroidery at the collar, cuffs and along the hem, showing the skirt was slit front and back to mid thigh for further ease of movement. She handed the lantern she'd been carrying to another armored guard.

“Now then, if you would accompany me, I can show you where you can wash up before dinner.”

“We're not going to be underdressed are we?” Virgil asked nervously. “Because I'm gonna be honest, Ms Parslie, I don't think anything but a good boiling is going to make these clothes smell less like horse.”

Remus snorted.

“He's got a point. We've been on the road for ten days and we smell like it.”

Parslie laughed gently. “Don't worry, we understand, if you'd gotten here earlier, you could have made full use of the castle's bathhouse, but at this hour, we thought perhaps dinner first would be preferable.”

Patton's stomach voiced it's opinion, and he chuckled sheepishly.

The dining hall was lit with the luminance crystals again; someone had carefully strung hundreds of small crystals up in a chandelier. He wasn't sure, since staring at it too long made his eyes water, but he thought there might be some sort of pattern to the slight shifts in color. Janus nudged him gently.

“Stop that, you're going to hurt yourself.” Janus had arranged his hair in a tail over his left shoulder, a wing of hair almost entirely obscuring the scarred side of his face. Logan knew enough to recognise that as the Mage feeling vulnerable, and after a moment's thought, took his left arm, as though he was escorting him to dinner, despite the fact they were already in the dining room. Janus let himself lean on Logan's arm for a long moment, eager to sit on something that wasn't moving.

They didn't have to wait much longer, as Parslie reentered with a woman slightly older than herself. The older woman's hair was cropped short except for a tail at the base of her neck, and a few curls of steely black-gray that fell on her forehead. She wore a garnet colored loose cut robe held tight at the waist with a thick, brace like belt. Loops of cord, decorated with beads and ending in a tassel decorated the shoulder, gathered into a metal clip. The open robe showed her wearing a highnecked black shirt and trousers, tucked into boots that had the same sturdy, brace-like quality.

“Oh yeah. We're underdressed.” Virgil muttered under his breath.

She gave them all a calm appraising look, and strode forward. She reached out, and Roman went to shake or maybe kiss, he wasn't sure, her hand. Instead she cupped his face and squeezed.

“Dear Gods, you're babyfaced.”

Remus made a manful effort, then collapsed into laughter.

“Honestly, has anyone taken you seriously in your life? You've got skin like a baby's ass.” the general continued 

“I like her!” Remus laughed. “General, how have we gone this long without meeting?”

“Don't get cocky, kiddo, I've seen women with better mustaches.” Remus’s exceptionaly fake gay gasp was interupted by his conitnued laughter. She pinched Roman's cheeks and took a step back, hands on her hips. “Still, I suppose your father- Are you wearing makeup?” 

“Uhm. Maybe a little.” Roman said, a little thrown off. “I wanted to make a good impression.”

“That’s a black eye, if I don’t miss my guess, matching your brother’s mushroom there. Did you do it to each other?”

“No.” Roman said feeling like he was caught out by a teacher. “I’m sorry, Ma’am can we get back on script? I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call you, for starters. Please don’t turn out to be like Uncle Rusty, I don’t know if I could take it.”

“Ha! That rabbit catcher still sitting on the Mage’s Circle?” 

“Yes Ma’am.”

Parslie gave a little cough, and General Amorea assumed her more dignified poise again. 

“Well, speaking of, you’re all young men, let’s not keep the cooks waiting longer.” she gestured them all to seats. “You can call me General Amorea if that would suit you, your highness.” 

“And you can call me Roman for now.” Roman offered. “I gather you know my brother mostly by reputation,”

“The mad Duke.”

“Hey, you deal with all this shit and keep your even temper.” Remus offered with a laugh. He and Roman were sat across from each other at the table, on either side of the General, then Virgil and Janus, Logan and Patton, and Parslie sitting on the end opposite the General. 

Taking a deep breath, Roman gestured with a hand. 

“General Amorea, other than my brother, allow me to introduce my companions, you may have heard of Janus Dean, he is my brother’s companion,”

“And valuable in his own right to the rebellion.” The General observed, nodding to him. Janus couldn’t help a bit of a pleased smile at that. 

“Next to him is Logan Lehrer, he was instrumental in releasing Remus from where he’d been imprisoned.” Logan’s eyes widened a little at that, and even further as Roman continued. “He’s very dear to both of us, and has proven to have an even and frighteningly intelligent mind under pressure. He comes from Florida, the adjacent world where I was brought up after I was locked out of Sanders. This is Patton Foster- he’s an excellent Marked Mage-”

“I think she could tell that, sport.” Patton chuckled. “I’m not exactly the sublest guy around.” 

“Patton found me and kept me safe in Florida, even though he was exiled there. And this is my… my dearest companion Virgil Loi.” he smiled at him.

“Boyfriend.” Vrgil said, sounding strangled. “Boyfriend is fine, I’m sure they’ve got some equivilent fucking word that doesn’t imply that I’m a mage. Which I’m not.” he clarified, looking right at the General. “I’m just here to make sure Princey here doesn’t do anything too stupid and get himself killed.” Roman hooked his foot around Virgil’s under the table, not-so-secretly pleased that Virgil had claimed that title himself. 

“Also from Florida?” the General guessed. “Nice haul. What are they feeding you boys there, and can we import it?” Servants came around with plates of tastefully arranged stuffed mushrooms and small dumplings, filling both wine and water goblets. “Not for me, I’m too old and married.” She smiled at Parslie, who rolled her eyes, ears twitching slightly. “You’ve met my wife. Wonderful woman. A real wildcat.”

“You’re making a wonderful impression I’m sure.” Parslie retorted from the other end of the table. “When I’m down here and can’t stop you.”

“Why do you think I sat us like this?” The General grinned. 

“Go on, my love. Delay the inevitable.” 

“So I hear you boys are making quite the impression in the months you’ve been here. But no real moves.”

“General Amorea, with respect, if I thought that the council or Cadmus would hand the throne over if I went up and asserted my claim, I would be on my way to the capital already. War isn’t good for anyone.” Roman said seriously. “I’m more than a little intimidated by the prospect, but I haven't exactly been hearing glowing reports of the usurper’s use of power.” he tried one of the dumplings and found it full of garlic, cheese and spinach. “This is good.”

“It’s been downhill for a while now. I retired when the Council appointed Cadmus to the throne. I’d already served, and had no interest in serving a foreign king. I’d served one king and that’s enough for any lifetime.”

“It’s very calculated changes.” Janus said. “Picking targets to start with that other people might not mind seeing taken down- the increased regulation in magic, the regulation in the movement, employment and residence for the Beast Hearted” 

“The taxes on middle class merchants and craftspeople.” Logan continued. “Very calculated. Most of the common people don’t think in terms of the merchants who sell to merchants; or the actual importers of goods. They think in terms of that merchant who sells what they want at more then they can afford. Seeing them suffer under new regulations isn’t a hardship; meanwhile the importers and the speculative merchants get richer. The noble level merchants.”

“Meanwhile,” Janus said “Certain regulations are eased for the nobles, very specifically, giving them more power on their own holdings. Arrests increase for petty crimes, and they serve their sentences with ‘civil service’. Performing tasks for room and board that used to be positions paid for by the nobles, letting them keep the taxes that used to pay for it. It’s the first step on the slope back to slavery.” 

“Why does a country at peace with its neighbors need to increase their army?” Roman asked. 

“You do know what’s been going on, very nice.” the General gave a little toast with her wine glass. 

“A lot of that is probably going to take time to dismantle.” Roman admitted. “I have some theory, but not much experience as a leader.” He paused, thoughtfully, then grinned at her “So, General Amorea, you said you followed one king in your lifetime?” 

“I served your father, as it happened.” 

Roman sat up a little bit. Other than the few stories his mother had told him when he was young, he didn’t know anything about his birth father. 

“You boys didn’t get a chance to meet him, but he was a baby faced little thing like you. He went with the army to defend an attack against Snoaj on their far border. I never would have gone up the ranks like I did without that war. He was just glad to have someone closer to his age to work with, so that combined with the rank I’d earned had me made Grand General, which I held until they put Cadmus on the throne.” She steepled her fingers thoughtfully, as servants replaced the small foods with bowls of soup, and sliced bread. “So, is it true? Is that man a dragon?”

“It’s true.” Janus said. “If we hadn’t known before, we know now. The Mage’s Circle has found at least one instance of a dragon’s blood stone being given by him.” 

She clicked her tongue squinting thoughtfully into the distance. 

“Well then. Explains more than it doesn’t. Terminal baby-face disease is one thing, but he’s looked the same ever since he came to court, while we were at war on Snoaj’s north border.” 

“If you don’t mind my asking, General Amorea, why did you resign?” Roman asked. “I’ve been reading up and isn’t Grand General normally a lifetime appointment?” 

“Well... technically it is. But the council didn’t like me, but the army did, which made the council like me even less. So I’d taken the job for Ditty. King Didymis, rather. Most of the council, they’d been around before him, for his father. There was only one or two close to our ages, and they’d inherited their posts from  _ their  _ parents, and were kind of homunculus copies, you know? I was gonna hold on until you were old enough, for your father’s sake if nothing else, but then you disappeared.”

“Which was apparently a plot from Cadmus.” Remus put in. “Me and mom were supposed to be trapped in Florida as well, but even the Gods’ plans don’t always work.” 

“That probably woulda put him on the throne a few years earlier, yeah. Anyhow, I’m sorry that I haven’t shown your rebellion more support, kid. I mean, if you’d proved he was a Dragon you’d probably get some of the council and most of the people on your side; you might have even broken that last taboo.”

“Ugh.” Remus made a face. “No, I do  _ not  _ want to be king, especially not the first king who’s openly magic marked, even if it’s by accident. Especially not over swearing Ro’s oath. That’d suck and  _ then  _ I’d have a boring job.” 

“Thanks, Mess, you’re really selling the perks to me.” Roman drawled. 

To his surprise, both Parslie and the General laughed at that. 

“I think the question becomes,” Roman coughed awkwardly. “Can you support the rebellion  _ now _ ?” 

“Yeah kid, I think I can.” she grinned.

Roman was half asleep leaning against the edge of the tub, when he felt someone’s fingers thread through his hair and scratch gently at the base of his skull. He blinked blurrily aware, and looked up. Virgil was perched on the edge of the bath. 

“Look I know how I felt about getting clean, but you’re going to turn into the world’s most over dramatic raisin if you don’t get out.” He said, not stopping the gentle scratches. 

“Or, and here’s just a suggestion, you get in with me.”

“No way, I just dried off.” 

“But cuddles!” Roman tipped his head so it was against Virgil’s towel-covered thigh, and peered up at his friend. His boyfriend. Oh God. “You said it.” he mumbled, a smile spreading over his face. “No take backs.” 

Virgil looked confused for a moment, but then he gave that small crooked smile that Roman had totally fallen in love with years ago. 

“Did you keep the receipt?” he joked. “Because you shouldn’t be too sure of that.” 

Roman stretched out of the water and put his arms around Virgil’s waist, dampening his towel. 

“I’m going to void your warranty.” He mumbled sleepily. The hand stilled, and Roman realised what he’d said, as well as how close his face was to certain areas. “Uhm.” 

“That is possibly the  _ least  _ romantic thing I have ever heard you say.” Virgil said with a hysterical giggle. “And I’ve dealt with drunk you, who has no tact whatsoever.”

“I’m going to go with the glorious and time honored tradition of blaming my brother. He is apparently, a terrible influence.” Roman groaned, and let go, sliding under the water. As well as the normal echoey ripple of being underwater, Roman could hear Virgil’s continued laughter, but he had to surface eventually. When he did, Virgil offered him a towel. 

“C’mon you charmer. I think you need to get in bed. I can’t let you drown yourself.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” 

Roman squeezed water out of his hair, and turned his back on Virgil before grabbing the offered towel and wrapping it around himself. He heard Virgil snort in amusement, but let that go. He could pretend some modesty, especially when he was embarrassed. 

Over the courses of dinner, the General had shared a few stories about his birth father- who apparently had a tendency to remember things by setting his lists to the tune of drinking songs- only one of the reasons for the incredibly un-kingly nickname- and Roman just felt shaken somehow. Logicaly, he knew Arthur wasn’t his father, just his Dad, and that his Mom had been married before. But there hadn’t been any pictures of his father, and so it wasn’t anything that he’d thought about. 

And then there was the revelation about being a prince, which meant his father had been king, and that only put him further out of anything Roman could think of or relate to. He was weirdly gratified that it seemed Remus didn’t know any more than he did, so it wasn’t as if their Mom had showered her remaining son with her memories. He could only hope that somewhere there would be an official portrait or something, and maybe a biography, so he’d be able to learn more. Preferably  _ before  _ things got more freaky and he saw a spectre claiming to be his father’s ghost, because at this point, Roman probably would only be moderately surprised. 

Servants from the household had extracted their laundry and brought them their washing supplies and robes to wear when they’d finished in the bathhouse. Virgil was less than pleased about someone going through his luggage, but didn’t find out until it was too late. Remus had tried to reassure him, since while he hadn’t always had servants around or serving him, he was familiar with the practice. Virgil wasn’t quite comfortable with the concept of servants; let alone ones who attempted to anticipate what he needed and had control over his surroundings. Logan had to agree with him, perfuring privacy over that kind of expediency. However, since the conversation had taken place while they were all naked and sharing bathing facilities, Virgil had to admit that  _ in theory _ he could get used to things that were outside his normal comfort zone.

That didn’t mean he had to like it. He didn’t really like change, even when it was more or less good.

The bed was magnificent, with thick curtains and canopy Roman was pretty sure were velvet and carved hardwood posts. It was also far bigger than even two people needed. It was almost embarrassingly enormous. 

“We could fit  _ everyone  _ in this.” Roman boggled. 

“Fortunately we don’t have to.” Virgil said, rubbing his hair with the towel a little more. “Because there’s another one just like this in the other room, and Patton fell asleep in the pillow pit in the sitting room. But you’re probably right, this is a family sleeper.” He fiddled with the inner canopy, which was made of what was clearly bug netting. “I mean that’s what they said in the ‘Life in a Medieval Manor’ books, right?” 

Roman laughed, and pulled back the coverlet. 

“Oh man, those were the best picture books.” he agreed. “I liked ‘Life in a Victorian House’ and ‘Life in a Viking Village’ too.” 

“The General had a mullet, didn’t she?” Virgil asked, as he climbed in and adjusted the bug net behind him. 

“I…” Roman thought about this, reaching up and twisting the lantern that hung from the canopy. It was a luminance crystal lamp in a double tube, allowing for adjusjustment in the level of light- one of the levels casting fanciful shapes around the bed curtains, like a children’s nightlight. He turned it all the way off however, and lay back, cradled by the thick feather bed mattress. “I guess it fit the definition? She had those stylish bangs, and then long hair down her back. It’s more like those rat-tail things that were popular for a while.” 

Virgil grunted agreement, and Roman reached out in the dark until he encountred Virgil’s hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“But if you’re going to play that fast and lose, doesn’t Andy technically have a mullet?” 

Virgil gave a snort of laughter, and rolled over a few times until he collided with Roman near the middle of the bed. He lay on Roman’s chest, arms folded under his chin, and Roman adjusted pillows until he was comfortable and put his arms around Virgil, perfectly content with their positions. 

“So.” Virgil murmured. “Void my warranty?” 

Roman flushed, and leaned up just a bit to kiss Virgil. Virgil shifted again framing Roman’s head with his arms as they kissed, gently, but with feeling. Roman hadn’t tried to make up for all the kisses he’d been missing out on with quantity, but he did try to make sure every kiss he gave Virgil had quality, or at very least, a declaration of affection. 

“Well, not in any way you wouldn’t like.” he mumbled. 

Virgil kissed him again, pressing their mouths, slightly open and overlapping together, making heat percolate in Roman’s chest, as his hand slid up to cup Virgil’s face. 

“Mnn…” Virgil pulled away, just a bit, and Roman chased his mouth before relaxing back down. Virgil gave him another quick peck, shifting to fit their bodies together more closely, his thigh pressing between Roman’s, so he was more or less straddling one of the other man’s legs. “Thing is, I’d love to fuck you.” the words were in a heated rumble of a whisper, and Roman clutched at Virgil pulling him even closer. “If we were going to now’s a good time, we’ve got thick stone walls and the bed all to ourselves, so privacy.” He pressed another kiss to Roman’s mouth and Roman deepend it, rubbing his fingers in the small of Virgil’s back. Virgil got ahold of Roman’s hair and pulled just a little, making him gasp, breaking the kiss for the moment. 

“Added bonus; you don’t have to ride anywhere for the next few days, so-” he gave a little moan as Roman, having been deprived of his lips, pressed kisses to Virgil’s neck instead. “But I don’t know if-” he stiffened and trembled a little bit as Roman nipped at his skin, sucking the spot and toying with it with his mouth. “If we’re prepared.” he finished weakly, pulse racing. Roman shifted his mouth and bit again, too gently to leave a mark, before trailing kisses up to Virgil’s mouth for a long deep kiss that left them both breathless. 

“I would love to make love with you.” Roman murmured back, voice rough with lust and emotion. “But I’m about to ruin the mood in a really weird way.” 

Virgil pushed up, and stared down at Roman, barely making out his face.

“Now I’m terrified, go on.” 

“So you know how Remus is teaching me trigger spells, the ones anyone can do?” 

“Oh my god.” Virgil said, making a connection and pressing his face into Roman’s neck to hide it.

“What I’m saying is there is a spell for that.” Roman started laughing, chest shaking as he tried to keep quiet. 

“Oh my fucking god.” Virgil started laughing too. 

“It’s so specific too- it’s just for-” he laughed instead of saying it. “There’s others for not getting people pregnant.”

“Your  _ brother  _ gave you the fantasy sex talk!” Virgil was laughing so hard he rolled off Roman’s chest and grabbed a pillow trying to muffle himself in it, despite his earlier observation about their privacy. 

“Yep!” Roman popped the last letter, keeping his arm around Virgil. “It was  _ mortifying _ .” He snuggled into Virgil’s hair. “Anyhow, I’m going to teach them to you, and try and get Remus’s leer out my head.”

“But not tonight.” Virgil sighed.

“No, not tonight.” There was a beat. “I mean, we can still make out.” 

“Good, because I owe you a hickey.” 

“Shit-” Roman gasped, the noise like a slide whistle as Virgil kissed his throat. 

Over the next few weeks, Roman discovered that Victory’s Head- as a town- was full of ex soldiers, some of whom remembered Grand General Amorea, and some who had just heard of her, and gravitated towards her town. Amorea had been adopted by the childless lord of Victory’s Head as a child- he’d been a career soldier and she’d been an orphan of war. She’d taken to it, and followed in his footsteps of treating her soldiers well. Roman came to realise fairly well that of all the nobles he’d met in passing- General Amorea had an  _ army _ . And gaining her unconditional support meant that the revolution now had one as well. 

Like many things this realisation came with more responsibilities. More things that Roman had to learn. Remus could teach him about squads and skirmishes, Janus had a grasp on espionage and spying, but General Amore taught him about tactics and logistics Roman was glad that Logan sat in on those; he seemed to have an excellent grasp on what Roman would need noted down for review later. 

These lessons were tucked in between practicing combat, and meeting with minor nobles who ‘just happened’ to be passing by or coming to visit. He met with them, skeptic and believer alike, and most of them left convinced- convinced enough they’d sworn fealty to him as the heir, a brief oath that Roman was startled to discover he was getting used to. 

They brought stories of court, and tales of what the Council and King were letting be rumors without stopping- and more importantly, what rumors they were trying to stop. Roman’s existence, and his return to Sanders seemed to be one they couldn’t snuff out, though they were trying to blow it off as another pretender. The whispers about the king being a dragon were being pushed down hard, but it was like grabbing smoke- the harder the council tried to grasp it the more leaked out. 

The King, however, seemed to only find it amusing. Not only the rumors of his being a dragon, but also the rumors of a revolution.

Which worried Roman more than it didn’t. 

Most of the rebel forces weren’t organized in groups bigger than a squad, scattered about the kingdom, connected by mages sending messages between contact books, and couriers bringing physical messages from one place to another. Squads trickled in and out of Victory’s Head, some of whom knew Remus and were eager to meet Roman, some of whom had just joined the rebellion on the promise of something better. Most of them trickled out again, better supplied than they’d been before. The sheer number of them surprised him, frankly. Logan had copied a map into one of his notebooks without a legend or labels, and had marked the areas where the squads were located, a series of tally marks marking the edge of the map like runes, telling Roman a frightening number of people were depending on him. Depending on him if not to do the right thing, be right enough and be true to them. 

Pretending to be a noble warrior in the SCA had never been this terrifying. He was so grateful for Virgil’s presence, Logan’s help, Patton’s kindness, Janus’s insight; hell, even his brother’s unwavering if occasionally distressing support- he couldn’t have managed without them. 

General Amorea told him the fact that he knew that made him a better leader; and it was better to lean on other people then to try and be a single shining point to follow. Roman kind of wished things were as easy as they seemed in movies. 

It was over a month into their stay at Victory’s Head- longer then they’d stayed at any location since coming to Sanders, when something unusual happened.

Roman was in the courtyard when the courier was escorted in by one of General Amorea’s personal guards- or rather the protective force for the small fortress-city. They were clearly a courier, though they lacked the badge of the couriers that he was used to at this point. In fact they looked as though they were wearing a more colorful livery, sort of like the servants in the keep, rather than the badges that marked the horses and bags of the normal messengers. That and the escort got Roman’s attention, and he stepped away from the group of soldiers he was sparring with, getting a drink, and trying to watch them subtly. It didn’t seem to work, because the liveried courier spotted him, and stepped away from their escort. 

“Hey- “ said the guard beside them. 

“I’m doing my job.” the courier said firmly, and walked up to Roman. Roman leaned on his practice sword casually, watching them approach. They didn’t look like much, being the lean, light build that he’d gotten used to in dedicated horse carriers. Reaching into their bag, they produced an envelope, sealed with both a ribbon and sealing wax. “Greetings, I come from Marquis Orpheus of Pyrion of the Royal Council, bearing a message for the Duke of Sanders and or the man claiming to be the Crown Prince.” 

“And or, huh?” Roman raised his eyebrows, and smiled, as the guards came up behind the messenger. “Do I need to sign for it?” 

The messenger's face pulled up a little, sort of a smile. “Which one are you?”

“I’m the good looking twin.” Roman retorted. “No need to bow, I’m sure the anyone on Council isn’t particularly interested in entertaining my right to the throne.” Standing up straight he fished inside his armor, and produced the chain he wore the Heir’s seal on when he was training. Janus and Patton assured him that normal wear and tear- even in combat wouldn’t break the seal, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. He peeled off his glove and looked at the guards. “Either of you have a seal pot?” one of them dug in their pouch and produced a small pot of ink and Roman impressed the seal onto the center of his palm, holding it up to the messenger. “To answer your question, I am Roman, Crown Prince of Sanders, no longer in exile.” 

“Then I bear a message from my master to be put in your hand.” They handed over the envelope. “I’m sure it says more, but the verbal message I was given to accompany it is as follows:” Clearing their throat, the cadence and tone of their voice changed. “‘I wish to meet with you and cannot come to Victory’s Head, we must meet in secret or not at all.’” The messenger coughed, and bowed slightly. 

“Huh.” Roman said thoughtfully, looking down at the envelope. “Well, I think you may be our guest for the rest of the day at least.” He nodded to the guards. “Please see to it that they’re given a place to rest and food and water.” He smiled at the messenger. “Once I’ve looked this over, I may have further questions for you;”

“Of course.” they nodded, and allowed themselves to be led away by the guards. Roman tucked the envelope into his belt and went to disarm. Somehow he thought this was more important than fighting practice. 

“You get that this could be a trap, right?” Remus said, standing shoulder to shoulder with Roman as Patton and Janus looked over the envelope for hidden spells. 

“That was my immediate thought, yeah.” Roman agreed. “But then I thought- ‘what if it wasn’t?’” He chuckled. “Then I went about three levels of conspiracy on it, ‘what if it’s sincere but he’s being put up by a third party to betray’ etcetera, but it doesn’t hurt to look.” 

“Well.” Patton stood up. “There’s nothing going on here. The ribbon has a ‘look away’ charm that’ll break when you open it, but there’s nothing in the message. Nothing in the paper, the seal or the ink, nothing inside the envelope but a sheet of paper. I think you can open it.” 

“Thanks.” Roman picked it up off the table, and pulled his belt knife out, lifting the seal and slitting the ribbon holding the envelope shut, then cut open the end and pulled out a heavy sheet of off white paper. “Fancy.” he commented, and unfolded it, tossing the envelope on the table. “Well, he addressed me as the prince, so that’s a start. Holy shit.” he said “He wants to meet because he wants to turn on the king.” 

“Oh okay.” Remus said calmly “This is  _ definitely  _ a trap.” 


	9. .Book Nine.

Trap or not that didn’t stop Roman from going. He consulted with General Amorea, and sent back a message with a location and a time; he certainly wasn’t foolish enough to go and meet this guy at a location that he’d chosen. A two days ride inland saw them in a large town, cusping on being a city. It reminded Logan of Lockbridge, and indeed the bridge was a prominent feature in the town, seeing as the town itself was on an island in the middle of the river. Inslet Town had a quality inn called the Prancing Pony which frankly tickled Roman’s sense of whimsy more than it had any right to, and that was the only reason it was picked. Inslet Town was known for its textiles, and many nobles would come to buy materials directly from the weavers, so it was a high enough class location that their noble guest wouldn’t be too out of place. 

Officially, Roman was accompanied by Patton and Logan, and two guards borrowed from Victory’s Head, mostly to make the General feel better. Virgil had been pissed as hell to be excluded but frankly, Roman didn’t trust his ability not to say something insulting. Roman was perfectly aware that his brother was somewhere nearby with both Virgil and Janus in case they needed a rescue, but for now, he was on his own. He doubted very much it was an elaborate assassination attempt- there would be so many eaiser ways to kill him, so kidnapping seemed the most likely goal if it was a trap. Patton was there to watch for magic, and Logan’s sharp wits would probably notice anything else, so Roman felt well companioned for what was probably a trap, but was possibly an opening. 

They sat comfortably in the well lit common room in a booth that shared a wall with the kitchen, watching people come and go. The loaned guards were at a different table where they could watch him, rather than the room. Roman had managed to get Logan talking about Lord of the Rings- made easier and more entertaining by Patton chiming in having only watched the movies. 

Logan had gotten out one of his notebooks and was drafting a point by point comparison, when Roman noticed a group enter, greeted by the innkeeper. He would probably be a bit shorter than Roman, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. His light brown hair was fairly short, cut to chin level in the front and shorter in the back. His skin was a pale almond brown, and while Roman could make out the slight slant to his eyes, he couldn't make out the color from where he sat. His ears were pierced and malachite dangles showed just carely under the wing of his hair, mirrored by malachite set into the decorative clasp on the heavy chain around his neck. 

Like Roman, the newcomer was accompanied by two guards, who wore weapons openly. More importantly to Roman’s eyes, both he and the guards were wearing the same colors, albeit in much finer fabric, as the messenger had been. Roman could even spot similar motifs in the designs of the guard's livery. Their clothing was even cut slightly differently than the other clothing in the room, their jackets with very fitted sleeves, narrow enough to need buttons at the cuffs that ran all the way to the elbow, and the skirt of the jacket split distinctly into four sections, embroidery only on the bottom edge. He watched the noble and his guards speak to the innkeeper who bowed deferentially. 

A few moments later, the same messenger Roman had spoken with and had been their guest overnight while they decided how to reply entered. They swept their eyes over the room, and barely paused when they caught sight of Roman, moving to stand at the noble’s elbow. The innkeeper led them up the stairs to the lodging rooms on the second floor. Roman tried not to be obvious in watching them go.

“I’m pretty sure that was a chain of office.” Patton said mildly, looking over the list in Logan’s notebook. “If that isn’t our new friend, it’s a heck of a coincidence.” 

“Well.” Roman said, trying to go for humor. “They  _ may  _ be trying to seduce me.” 

Logan pinched his thigh under the table, and Roman laughed outright. 

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding.” He picked up Logan’s hand and kissed the knuckles. “Let’s be honest; as accepting as people are in Sanders, if they wanted to seduce me they’d probably send a woman anyway for political marriage purposes.” 

“And that would fail spectacularly.” Patton giggled. “For a couple reasons.” He pressed his fingers to his upper arm and made a flicking motion, before handing Logan his notebook. “Let’s go.” 

The spell Patton cast was both simple and complex- people would see what they expected to- if they expected them to remain in the booth, then that’s what they would see- but if they expected them gone, the booth would be empty. It muddled their departure time, making it hard to tell when and where they’d gone. It also disguised their movements for long enough to go from the common room to their room upstairs.

Like the newly arrived nobleman they had rented a room on the second floor. Compared to the rooms at Victory’s Head, they were sparse, but they were still on par with the best hotel roomsRoman had ever stayed in; two full beds, plus a table and chairs- clearly intended for meetings. As part of the ‘keep Roman safe’ agenda, which he hated, they had a very specific plan for meeting with the Marquis. Roman was not allowed to enter a room that was already occupied. Instead, he would wait, and Logan acting as a messenger, would invite the Marquis in- sans his guards, or down to one. Roman didn’t want to appear threatening to their potential ally, which is why his guards (another thing he hated) were waiting downstairs. Having sparred with him, the guards were reasonable content with his competence in protecting himself. Not to mention Patton, between his magical and physical prowess- though if he used or even had a weapon, Roman hadn’t seen it- was an additional precaution. 

‘Side B’ as Virgil dubbed the other team had their own plans in place, which they purposely didn’t tell them, so if everything went wrong the back up plan couldn’t be revealed. Roman was fairly certain he recognised the voice of the bard playing on the other side of the common room, but he hadn’t spotted Virgil, with or without makeup, and hadn't even  _ that _ much of a clue where Remus and Janus were, or what they were doing. 

Logan stuck his head out the door, and nodded, confirming the livered guards were waiting outside a door further down the hall. Without further pause, he stepped out the door, and walked down the hallway with purpose. 

While Roman would never use the word ‘ordinary’ to describe Logan, he was neither a mage, a noble or a trained warrior of any stripe. He had discovered to his frustration that he belonged to the small part of the population unable to even use trigger spells, though he could use items enchanted with them. Only slightly related, was that he had a higher than normal magic resistance, protecting him from casual enchantments, and allowing him to cut through more complicated ones. In short he was non- threatening and trustworthy in appearance- a fine thing for a messenger.

When the door closed behind him, all Roman could do however, was wait.

Logan approached the guarded door with a purposeful step, stopping a measured pace from the guards, giving a polite nod before speaking. 

“I believe I have a message for your lord.”

“You believe?” asked one of the guards, mouth twisting in amusement, or perhaps, confusion.

“Well it does depend on who’s behind the door.” Logan retorted calmly. “It certainly wouldn’t do to deliver it to the wrong person, would it, good sters?” 

The twist of the mouth was definitely amusement now, and the guard reached back, rapping his knuckles on the wood.

After a moment, the door opened, showing the messenger from before. If they were surprised to see Logan, they didn’t show it. 

“Good afternoon.” Logan gave a polite nod of his head to the messenger. “Is your Master still the Marquis of Pyrion, Orpheus?” 

“He is.”

“Then I have a message for him, and will entrust it to you.” Delicately he reached into the partially undone front of his doublet with two fingers, slowly withdrawing a folded piece of paper. Once it was free, he turned it over to show the steal before handing it to the messenger, who looked at the seal thoughtfully.

“Will you be waiting for a reply?” 

“That shouldn't be necessary.” With another polite nod, he turned and strode back up the hallway, tapping on the door in a brief pattern before opening it and ducking inside. 

Roman had not been waiting patiently. When Logan entered he turned from his pacing and grabbed ahold of Logan’s hands, looking him over as thought for injury.

“Roman, I was gone for less than a quarter hour. I was less than a hundred yards away.” Logan said, exasperated.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t wish you in arms reach at all times.” Roman murmured in reply, kissing Logan’s palms one after the other, before holding one to his cheek.

“You are ridiculous.” Logan retorted fondly.

“Ridiculously charming? Ridiculously good looking? Ridiculously lucky?” Roman prodded sweetly, staring into Logan’s eyes.

“Stop.” Logan ordered “We don’t know how soon they will respond.”

“All the more reason for me to make the most of the time I have.” he started to pull Logan closer.

“Roman,” Logan said sternly. “I cannot let you enter a political negotiation looking kiss rumpled.” 

“But that means I’ll be deprived of precious vitamin K!” Roman pouted playfully. “Just one kiss? I mean, Pattons right there, I’m hardly going to ravish you at this exact second.” 

“It’s true.” Patton just seemed amused. “I can’t say I’m really interested in playing voyeur.”

Logan let himself be pulled into Roman’s arms. Roman behaved himself, kissing Logan sweetly, lips barely parted to overlap, but still chaste. He held onto Logan however, swaying in place gently. 

“Are you scared?” Logan asked quietly. 

“Me? Scared?” Roman laughed just a little too loudly for how close he was to Logan’s ears. “Yes.” he swallowed. “There are so many ways to fuck this up.” 

Logan pulled back, and cupped Roman’s face in his hands. 

“But you will not. You will be brilliant. I know you will and you know I hate to say things that are untrue.” He kissed Roman firmly, then pulled away, and smoothed Roman’s hair and doublet. Then he rested his finger tips under Roman’s chin, making their eyes meet. “Do you understand?”

Romans’s eyes were so full of… Logan wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with all the emotion that he saw in Roman’s eyes. It looked as though it could swallow him whole, burn him alive, and leave him breathlessly wanting more. The intensity of his own response to it was nearly as terrifying.

Fortunately, there was a measured, rhythmic knock at the door. Roman took a deep breath, nodded, and went over to the chair at the head of the table. Logan opened the door, allowing the messenger and the well dressed nobleman they had seen before into the room. As imposing a figure as he cut, the top of his head was even with Logan’s nose. Logan allowed the guard to step inside far enough to see the entire room, but then stood in his way. 

“Forgive me. The door will remain unlocked, but I cannot allow an armed guard at this negotiation.” 

The noble snorted, turning slightly to look at his guard.

“Didn’t I say that?” he said in a light alto. He turned back to adress Roman, tilting his head. “Would you allow Albert to check the room more thoroughly, for my protection?”

“That seems reasonable. Logan?” 

Frowning , Logan stepped aside, allowing the guard to come inside fully and circle the room, glancing under the beds and into the corners, peering out the closed window and testing the latch, occasionally touching a gemstone drop that hung from one ear. Roman watched him thoughtfully, splitting his attention between the patient noble in green and bronze and the armed man. Finally the guard sighed, and nodded to the noble, before going out the door and closing it carefully behind him, presumably taking up a station just outside. 

“Well then.” Roman said smiling. “Do I introduce myself? Do you? I have to say you’re one of the more impressive people I’ve met recently.” 

The Marquis’s eyes crinkled in amusement. This close Roman could now see his lips were full, his eyes were hazel green, and that his nose was broad at the tip with a shallow bridge. 

“Technically, we should be introduced by a third party, with myself presented to you, your highness.” 

“Hrm. “ Said Roman thoughtfully. “Well then, let’s see what we can do to pretend we followed convention.” He looked at the messenger. “Would you do the honor of introducing your Lord- Talsyn was it?” 

The messenger blinked, as if surprised that Roman had remembered their name. They glanced at their Lord, who nodded encouragingly. 

“Very well then, I have the pleasure to introduce Orpheus, Marquis of Pyrion, Lord of the Crown Council to Crown Prince Roman of Sanders.” 

Orpheus tucked one arm behind himself and bowed elegantly. Roman bowed much more shallowly in return and extended a hand, which Orpheus cautiously put his own in it.

“My pleasure, I am sure.” Roman placed a dry kiss on the knuckles, then gestured the other man to a chair. “Now then, I think we have a great deal to talk about?” 

Logan, who was not jealous even a little shifted where he was standing, waiting until Roman had sat down to sit down beside him, producing a notebook and pencil. 

“Patton?” Roman asked, and the mage nodded, pressing one finger to his lips, then a finger behind each ear. 

“Ah, Lord Orpheus, if you would? Can you take the chain of office off? There are some spells on it; I can’t tell their precise effects; but they are running off your ambient energy, so if you remove it they will deactivate. And Certainly taking it off in a private room is hardly suspicious.” 

Orpheus glanced down at the thick chain around his neck as if considering. 

“Well if you are concerned about listening spells, I think that ship has sailed, Master Mage.” that being said he unclasped the large decorative clasps at the front of the chain, and coiled it on the table in front of him. It wasn’t a traditional chain, looking more like it had been woven of fine wire, creating a sort of tube the thickness of a man’s thumb. 

“Thank you for being understanding.” Making a twisting motion against his palm, Patton flicked his fingers over the chain, then retreated back to lean against the wall. 

“I have to say that I was kind of thrilled to receive your message,” Roman said, not beating around the bush. “While I’ve found a lot of support among the people since my return, the ranks closer to the crown are somewhat closed to me, and I’ll need to work with them at least a little.” Remus had asked that Roman not disclose the details of his exile too much, while the average person was aware of adjacent worlds, that didn’t make them particularly trustworthy places. “Not that I’m surprised. It does seem that a certain class of person is also profiting from Cadmus’s reign.” 

“Many of my fellow council members are grabbing for power for themselves in many small ways. Some are genuinely oblivious and are just trying to do what they believe is best. Given the right situation, they would be just as willing to support you as they do him.” Orpheus said frankly. 

“And what about you?” Roman asked. “What makes you decide to turn your back on your king, and what do you hope to gain from it?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m fairly sure he killed my father.” 

Pyrion was an archipelago to the east of the mainland of Sanders. Four generations ago, it had been a sovereign nation. After an altercation involving the crown prince at the time, Pyrion had been conquered, and as part of the treaty, the ruling family had been granted the right to continue ruling as a county of Sanders, under the king. The Marquis of Pyrion was, therefore required to spend the majority of their time in the capital, Sedis Maoths, as a member of the Crown Council, who helped govern the kingdom. Orpheus’s father, the previous Marquis, had held the office when Cadmus had taken the throne. He had been vocal in wanting to wait longer to look for the lost prince, and grudging in his support for Cadmus. 

“It would have certainly been better for him to sing a pretty tune, and placated him but my father was painfully plain spoken. He’d been the fourth in line for the title until very late, when a plague put him in the spot.” Orpheus said sadly. “Among his brothers he’d become something of the court clown, saying things in a sharp, funny way to get people to pay attention to the truth of it. He tried to act with dignity when pressed into the new office, but he soon was doing the same thing at Council sessions. I remember him ranting to my mother and I about them.” He paused. “I Suppose this all seems like superfluous information; but-” 

“No, that’s fine.” Roman assured him. It was slightly less than fine, because a little voice in the back of Roman’s head that sounded a little like Virgil was screeching ‘it’s a trap, he’s stalling’. Roman was never very good at listening to that voice anyway. 

“Information gathered is rarely wasted.” Logan murmured quietly, from where he was recording what the Marquis said.

“Please, continue.” 

Orpheus gave a small smile. 

“Very well. Three years ago, just after the first additional taxation was placed on Marked Mages; a dovetailed piece of law came through. It was… ambiguously worded, but lessened the penalties someone would have to face if the violence they committed was against mages. There had already been precedent, of people going unpunished for crimes against mages, and mages being punished for protecting themselves. As far as I can tell that’s what led to the greater taxation and observation of mages and witches. Once I finally read the actual wording I thought it sounded more like they were inciting people to do so.” 

Patton hummed thoughtfully in the back of the room as if considering it. 

“In Pyrion witches are very common, most families have at least one. It is more of a matriarchal thing than it is here, but the point is more that my father was concerned. And he went from concerned to cross, as scrubbing of mages became more common. Before it was assault and vandalism, and now it was barely assault, if the attacker claimed they were afraid.” 

Roman frowned, and Orpheus played with the cuff of his coat under the edge of the table, posture still impeccable, and face mostly serene. 

“My father couldn’t understand why this kind of law could be approved, let alone passed. He thought no one would notice when the fool fell silent, but someone noticed. Meanwhile, he was following a thread to a very uncomfortable truth- no one knew where Cadmus had come from before he came to court during the Northern Wars.” He frowned a bit then. “Cadmus did pass through Pyrion, however, one of the first places there are actual records of him. On our yearly journey to Pyrion, my father dug through records- some people were glad that he was finally taking things seriously- but it was simply out of character. When we came back, my father was harboring a theory. The king called him in for a private audience. And then, he never came home. He disappeared without a trace after entering the inner palace. Less than a week after that, I was called before the king and told point blank that I was the new Marquis.” He paused there, then spread his hand at the chain of office. “And he placed that around my neck. That was it. No one even looked for my father.” 

“I’m so sorry-” Roman said, concern tinting his voice. 

“That was perhaps, three years ago?” Orpheus continued. “Information kept trickling it, remnants of my father’s search. Information about the man who was now king. Who had placed me on the council before my time. At a certain point, you no longer need to watch your back, as you know who’s watching you.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “So I could hardly follow my father’s trail. So I just…” He raised his hand and made an opening gesture. “Let the information go. To other people’s ears.”

Patton’s face lit with understanding. 

“It was you- you provided the evidence about the Usurper’s true form.” 

“Well, technically it was Talsyn.” he gave a flash of a smile, showing a slight gap between his front teeth. He nodded to his messenger, encouraging them to speak. 

“Five different places I dropped it before it was picked up. Having a full Circle of Marked Mages makes finding things easier apparently, because after that it was less than three months before they had more proof than either Lord Orpheus or Lord Aidus found. Within a half year, some people knew for  _ certain  _ that Cadmus was a dragon. However, that was about the time the Duke of Sanders disappeared, and attacks on Marked Mages known to associate with the revolution increased. With the dowager queen, the crown prince and the duke gone, there was no one left to figurehead the resistance. My pardon my lords.” Talsyn nodded, and both Roman and Orpheus gave them a forgiving gesture. 

“If my father had had a Companion Mage that he could trust, he might have had the information and proof in hand when he disappeared.” Orpheus said sadly. “Though I don’t think that would have saved him.” 

“Alright then, second question.” Roman said. “What do you want out of this?” 

“I’d like to see Cadmus dead.” Orpheus said with a bluntness that made everyone else in the room sit up straighter. “The plague that took my uncles took many people in Pyrion. Including the rest of my family. While it took years to work through the population, the first recorded cases were shortly after Cadmus first passed through the islands- part of the reason it was difficult to find information on him.”

“Oooh that makes sense.” Patton said, eyes flicking back and forth. Logan had paused and was pressing the end of his pencil to his lower lip, tapping his fingers on it as he digested this information.

“I mean, if you’re offering, Pyrion would like to be a sovereign nation again, but I can understand if that would take time.” 

Roman burst out laughing at that, and tried to contain it. 

“I’m terribly sorry.” He said, biting his lips together. “That is a serious request, and this is serious time but the timing was just...” He bounced his leg in place, hiding his mouth with both hands, and trying not to take Logan’s incredibly disappointed look too much to heart. Orpheus seemed to take it well, at least, but that might have been his default expression. At last Roman managed to get past his sudden outburst and he coughed, smoothing the front of his doublet. “I’m afraid I cannot make any promises about that at this time, Lord Orpheus. Rest assured I will take that under consideration- Logan, write it down, thank you.” 

Orpheus stared at him for a moment, eyes getting wider, and he raised a hand to cover his own smile. 

“And I think this is the last question for me, at least.” Roman said “What can you bring to the revolution?” 

“Ah!” the nobleman smiled without hiding it now, and leaned forward. “That, I am glad you asked.” 

They talked for the rest of the afternoon; dinner was ordered, and at that juncture- at Roman’s insistence- the guards were included in the room to join in the meal. So were the two guards they’d brought, so both sets were equally uncomfortable at the development, though they did manage to talk lightly towards the end, discussing their noble charges, the ones from Pyrion giving some advice, since they had more experience in dealing with the highly ranked. As night drew in they drew up an agreement, and both parties signed and sealed it- this was one of the situations Remus had warned him called for the seal to be dressed in blood, as it was a solem, dangerous contract. Still Roman was kind of relieved when Orpheus went first, because this would have been a terrible time for him to discover that his brother was messing with him. The red-brown smear on seafoam green sealing wax reassured him even as he did the same on the gold wax Logan had handed him. 

Theatre. Roman told himself. More of the continuing performance that his life was going to be, stretching out in front of him. It was all just theatre. 

He felt exhausted already. 

But Orpheus had given him more than just inside information on the palace and the court, he’d given him a strange hope. He’d never entertained the idea that they’d lose, but meeting with one of the nobles, Roman saw that there was a chance he’d thrive. 

After the negotiations were done, and they were alone, Roman took a moment to droop, and breathe. They wouldn’t be staying here, there was another room, less well appointed, but rented out in a different name. The guards would stay here, in case of an assassination attempt in the night, it would be better that someone was there to catch it. It all seemed a little bit over the top to Roman, but it was another thing he was getting used to. He looked out the window, at illuminated streets below. Even in the palm sized circles of glass that paned the window, he could see enough of a reflection to recognise who was coming up behind him.

“Did I do a good job?” he asked.

“I don’t know if I’m the person to ask that.” Logan admitted. For now, they were alone. Patton had gone to meet up with Janus, and the guards were in the common room again. “I might ask you the same thing.” Roman took Logan’s hand and kissed the palm, curling his fingers around his face.

“I can tell you that you were wonderful.” Roman responded. “How did the book work?”

“Well as far as I can tell.” The notebook that Logan had faithfully recorded the meeting in was a contact book, linked to another held by Remus. Logan, in the guise of his own commentary had even been able to convey thoughts during the negotiation. “And for only my opinion, I think you did a good job. He seemed charmed. Which isn’t surprising, as you can be quite charming when you put your mind to it.”

Roman smiled, turning his face to press another kiss to the center of Logan’s palm, then to the pulse in his wrist. 

“Can I charm you?” 

“I am here, am I not?” Logan retorted. 

“You are.” he pulled him close. “Logan.” he murmured, sliding his arms around him. 

“Yes?” Logan let his arms rest on Roman’s shoulders. 

“Nothing, I’m just admiring your name; glad that I know it.” 

“Well, that brand of foolishness is over at least.” Logan snorted, and toyed with the end of Roman’s ponytail, which he’d stopped trimming since coming to Sanders.

“Don’t worry, there’s always new foolishness.”

“There was never any doubt.” Logan said blandly. Roman laughed, and spun him around as if they were dancing, singing softly. After a while Logan stilled them. “It’s time to move, he murmured in Roman’s ear. Roman waltzed them over to the bed and set Logan on the edge; before striding over and closing the curtains, and blowing out the lamps. They sat together on the edge of the bed as their eyes adjusted to the darkness. Roman rumpled up the blankets, arranging them into deceptive piles by feel alone.

“Say, can I touch your hair?” Roman asked as they waited. “I mean I have before, but that was… different.”

“I suppose so, why?” 

“Well,” Roman traced his fingers along the edges of the braids. “I don’t know, I was curious, I may be thinking about you when I touch your braids, but I’m not really thinking about your hair.” 

“What do you think of my hair?”

“I think I’d like to learn to braid it.” Roman said honestly. “I know that it’s a little different, and catches on itself, so it holds braids longer than my hair or, god forbid, Virgil’s.”

Logan gave a laugh. Virgil’s hair would barely hold one braid, slithering out of hair ties notoriously. While Logan generally wore the clasp that Remus had given him, his ‘going to an alternate dimension’ bag had included two hundred packs of elastics, many of which had gone to Virgil, despite the fact he’d brought his own. Of course, Janus had started stealing them as well, though he rarely tied his hair back, which might have contributed to the drain. Still, Logan couldn’t help but compare the intimacy of Roman’s fingers tracing over his hair to the pleasantly chatty and efficient woman he’d gone to before. Frankly, given that there were plenty of people who spotted similar hairstyles in Sanders, Logan assumed that he’d be able to find a hair stylist to help him when it became necessary. Well, he still would even if Roman learned to do so. 

Logan’s eyes blinked open, making him realise that he’d closed them while Roman caressed his hair. The darkness of the room was perfectly normal grayed out shapes and he sighed, catching Roman’s hand. He squeezed it once, and they stood, moving silently to the door. Pulling a bangle out of his pouch, Roman flicked one bead on it into another, the sharp ‘tak’ of glass hitting glass the loudest thing in the room. Holding it out, he waited until Logan had hooked two fingers into it, and opened the door, the two sliding into the hall. He shut and locked the door behind them, and they ghosted along, covered by the ‘don’t notice me spell’ in the bangle. By stretching it over two people, the spell itself was less noticeable. They worked their way around the Prancing Pony, to the middle class rooms above the stables. Once they were safely in the new, windowless room, Logan let go, and Roman let the bangle fall to the floor, disrupting and ending the spell.

“Sup.” 

Roman almost screamed at the sudden address, and Logan threw himself on his friend, slapping a hand over the dramatic man’s mouth before the sound could escape. 

Virgil sat cross legged on one of the beds, hair covered by a floppy hat, wearing a rather flashy doublet to match, the entire outfit sky blue with pink trim, which was more color than Roman normally saw him in. Additionally his face was clean of makeup, and the combination made him look rather like someone else entirely. 

“I don’t know what I was expected, that was dumb of me.” He shook his head. Roman shook Logan off of him, and stalked over to the bed, pulling the hat off and tossing it aside, letting Virgil’s thick purple and nearly black hair fall around his face. “How you doing Princey?” he drawled unbothered by the manhandling, as Roman looked deeply into his eyes. He found the last syllable kissed off his lips. Logan sighed and shook his head, locking the door. 

“Indeed, you really should have known better.” he scolded Virgil while he couldn’t defend himself. “That could have easily ended badly.” 

“Nah.” Virgil chuckled, sounding unfairly unruffled. “Roman knows me.” 

“I know you’re an asshole.” Roman growled, and kissed him again, more intensely, kneeling on the bed to get closer, this time getting a response of Virgil’s hands cupping his face in return. 

This time when their lips parted, Virgil sounded breathless. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I was under the impression that you were going to remain separate while we were in Inslet?” Logan asked. 

“Well a little bird told me Ro did good, so I wanted to congratulate him. Also this undercover stuff sucks.” 

“You smell funny.” Mumbled Roman, who had his face in his friend's neck. Virgil squeaked as Roman burrowed closer. “Mnn. Nope, there you are.” he relaxed minutely. 

“Roman-” Logan admonished. “Don’t get your boots on the bed, we need to sleep there.” Obediently, Roman swung his legs back down to the floor, but didn’t relinquish his hold. Pushing up the back of his doublet, Virgil rubbed circles on his back. His other hand lifted and finger-spelled something in american sign. Nodding, Logan responded in kind. He had worried somehow that this was a ruse. But that was one of many contingency plans he and Virgil had planned for. There was a long and far ranging list that ranged from likely to incredibly unlikely. Someone pretending to be one of them was roughly in the middle. 

“Sorry.” Roman mumbled after a long moment. “Long day.” 

“Was the pretty aristocrat too much for you?” Virgil teased. “Ride you rough and put you away wet?”

“Ugh, you’re spending too much time with my brother.” Roman groaned. 

“That’s why I’m here now.” he kept rubbing at Roman’s back, and he slowly relaxed. 

“It’s not like a story.” Roman sighed. “People have been getting hurt for a long time; people are going to  _ keep _ getting hurt, even after we fix this. It’s going to take years to fix, just like at ho-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I could hurt people accidentally by saying the wrong thing.” he sat up, and reluctantly let go of Virgil, sitting on the edge of the bed, and starting to tug at his boots. “I’m going to say the wrong thing.”

“Probably sometimes.” Virgil agreed. “Ro, people can die all the time for all sorts of reasons, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. Unless you kill them, it isn’t your fault. Well, maybe if you told someone else to kill them.”

“I don’t think philosophy is what Roman needs right now.” Logan prompted gently, sitting down on the other side. 

Virgil wrinkled his nose and thought for a long moment, trying to come up with something that would be close to right.

“Okay, you may sometimes say the wrong things- but you always try to do the right ones.” 

“Yes.” Logan agreed. “That sounds accurate.” 

“Thanks.” Reaching out he threaded his hands through theirs. There was a long moment then Roman frowned at his feet. “How am I supposed to accomplish simple day to day tasks like taking off my boots, when all I want to do is hold your hands? It’s homophobia, that’s what it is.”

Logan’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. 

“I … how are your boots being homophobic?”

“Meme, L.” 

“Oh. Well that makes so much more sense.” 

Roman slept well, despite how cramped the bed was. A little loss of circulation was nothing compared to how good it felt to be squished with love. Virgil got up far too early, barely waking Roman up as he clung to him and put his disguise again. Roman wrinkled his nose. 

“You look ridiculous.” he mumbled sleepily. “Did you sleep at all?”

“I slept a little, don’t worry. Tumblr can’t keep me up any more.” 

“It was never tumblr and you know it.” He mumbled. “All I’m doing is giving you more things to worry about.”

“Maybe so. I’ll see you this afternoon, right? We’ll meet up on the road to Victory’s Head. Even if I’m dressed like a clown, you’ll recognise the dumb horse.” 

“Aurora is a pretty horse. Feisty. Suits you.” He kissed Virgil and smiled as Virgil kissed Logan’s forehead, the other man sleeping through it. “Thanks for coming.” 

“Eh, I just came to steal your wallet, like the no good minstrel I am.”

“You missed.” Roman murmured. “Just got my heart.” Virgil rolled his eyes, but his smile was big enough that Roman got a hint of one of the dimples that his friend’s grouchy persona tried to hide. Extracting himself from the blankets Roman followed Virgil to the door to steal another kiss, then locked it behind him. It was early enough that there weren't many people moving yet, though Roman could hear people in the stables below them. Yawning, he climbed back into bed, wrapping his arms around Logan, who blearly returned the embrace, both of them dozing off again.

They were woken several hours later by Patton rapping cheerfully at their door, before opening the lock and coming in, making a only slightly off color joke about them being decent. He didn’t seem to realise that Virgil had been there at all, which amused Roman enough that he decided to keep it a secret. 

Since, unsurprisingly there had not been an assassination attempt, the gaurds had jut gotten a chance to sleep in a higer quality bed than they normally would, leading to them chatting between themselves of the likelyhood of acquiring a feather matress that thick; the younger guard, John, said his grandmother had had one like that, being a chicken farmer, and when she’d died there had practicaly been knife fights over it. Erin, an ex soldier, retorted that if it was like that, she wasn’t surprised. 

Roman tried in vain to come up with a way to describe memory foam to them. The closest he got was a sort of sponge, and neither of them were impressed by that concept. Logan didn’t even bother trying, much to Roman’s annoyance. With the danger of the meeting behind them, the group was relaxed, even if they were still cautious. The guards clearly felt that all things considered they’d drawn light duty escorting Roman to and from Inslet. They took their time through the markets on their way out of town, making their way to the crossroads, where they kicked up their feet and waited for the others to catch up. It was the most relaxed Roman had felt in a while, and he was enjoying it, even though it would have of course been better with his best friend there. It was barely afternoon when the other group came riding up. 

Roman was just making sure Merida, the black horse with a white nose blaze that he’d gotten attached to had her tack on properly when a courier came pounding down the road at a frankly reckless speed. They blasted past the group, then pulled up their horse and turned it. For a moment, the guard’s hands lingered on their weapons, but then they saw the courier was wearing the chocolate brown and garnet livery of Victory’s Head. 

“Your Highness! Your Grace!” She gasped, urging the horse towards them. 

“What’s the matter?” Roman asked immediately, moving to her stirrup. “Did something happen?”

“There are companies moving.” she gasped out, and dug into the pouch under her arm, and produced a folded piece of paper sealed by a stamp not wax. “In the south towards Amber Lake. We’ve got contacts in the army. They say orders are to attack the town. General Amorea sent me to tell you; She’s sending men to help them, but-” Remus came up behind Roman and passed her a water skin. Roman opened the message, and read it over, frowning about the information. 

“Lake Amber is a settlement of Beast Hearted. If the army is moving against them, is there any reason?”

“I think the excuse is that they’re harboring the Revolution-”

“But they aren’t?” Remus said, looking confused. “Lake Amber is real pastoral shit, I mean they just raise animals and tan leather. The most offensive thing is the smell downwind.” 

“Remus.” Roman said looking over at him, almost condescendingly. “Do you honestly think the government needs a real reason to send an army after a minority?” 

Remus stared at Roman for a long moment.

“There is some dystopian bullshit going on in Florida.” he said blandly. 

“Yeah.” 

Logan came over, pulling the map out, and spreading it between them. 

“Here-” He pointed on the map. “Lake Amber is south along the river from here. Victory’s Head is here on the coast.”

“We have a few squads in the towns here and here.” Remus pointed, and the courier nodded. “You’ve got the contact info for them?”

“Yes your grace. I was supposed to give you the message, and continue on.”

“Good. Go.” Remus nodded. The courier nodded, and turned, galloping off and leaving them there. 

“What are we going to do?” Roman asked. “There’s  _ eight  _ of us. And not all of us are fighters.” 

“Oh, you want to not?” Remus snarled. 

“No!” Roman snapped. “I’m all for doing something. But a company that’s-”

“Approximately a hundred men.” Logan supplied. “Typically at least eight squads, and a squad was what was at the villa.” 

“Thank you.” Roman chewed on his thumb, and drummed his fingers on the hilt of his sword. “I’ve got no doubt you could take down a squad, but I don’t think the rest of us could manage that.” 

“Roman, are you going to do something stupid?” Virgil asked, having shed his brightly colored doublet for a more sedate jacket. 

“Yeah probably.” Roman admitted. “But you’re coming with me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to like it.” 

Logan and Remus were bent over the map. 

“If they’re mounted and head cross country-” Remus tracing his fingers over the map. “We’d still get there first, I mean, maybe the resistance from the surrounding area can come, but…”

“Where’s the army coming from? I mean, where’s the largest garrison?” Roman asked, joining them. 

“They’ll probably have been on the road for at least a day at this point.” Remus said, but scanned the map. “Here. Must have been a mage message- they’re almost as far away as the General is. If she wasn’t retired, they’d probably consider Victory’s Head a garrison; instead of just a fortified town, though  _ technically _ it’s just an excessive number of retired soldiers and pushing the limit on personal guards.” 

“We’re slightly closer than they are;” Logan pointed out. “It looks as though we could follow the river right to Amber Lake- is this a road?” 

“No, that’s a tow path for barges.” Remus corrected. “We could take it, though, and cut off most of a day.” 

“I doubt the whole company is mounted.” Janus pointed out. “A squad or two? Certainly. But for that many men it’s unlikely. That gives us more time.” 

“We can’t move too much too fast. That’d be taken as aggression from the revolution and give them the excuse retroactively.” 

“But if we warn the residents, they can probably help us defend.” Roman pointed out. “And if we can get some trained men there, we might stand a chance.” He frowned. “... I could try to talk to them.”

“What? How is that a plan?” Virgil demanded. “Ro, you can’t talk a fucking army out of attacking. You can’t even talk my brother out of another coffee.”

“Ow, first of all.” Roman frowned. “But… what if I can? I mean- picture this; you’re in the army, and it’s already pretty sketchy that you’re being asked to attack a town rather than say, another army. But you’re following orders, because that’s just what you do. And then it turns out the person ordering you doesn’t technically have the authority to do so in the first place. Maybe we could at least get them not to do it, even if we couldn’t recruit them.” 

“You seriously think you can march out there and pull a ‘rightful king’ thing?” Virgil demanded. “That’s insane, no one would buy that.”

“Actually he’s got a point.” Patton said thoughtfully. 

“The fuck.” Virgil said with feeling. 

“It’s not a great chance, but it  _ might  _ work. It would depend a great deal on the people involved.” 

“Are we going?” asked John, uncertainly, holding the reins of his horse. 

“Sorry.” Roman said, smiling weakly. “You don’t have to; you can certainly head back to Victory’s Head. This isn’t what you were sent out to do.”

“No, your highness.” Erin shook her head. “I think keeping you safe is exactly what we were sent to do.” 

Logan rolled the map back up and slid it back into its case. 

“Then we should start riding. We can hardly ride all night; so we can work out further details when we stop.” 

“You’re endorsing this insanity?” Virgil asked. 

“I’m certainly not endorsing Roman’s ‘I’m going to talk an army out of attacking’ plan.” Logan corrected. Roman mumbled something about it not being an entire army. “But we’re still going, no matter what, and the sooner we get there, the more time we’ll have to form a more coherent plan, with an awareness of the resources at hand.” 

Virgil seemed to consider these words for a moment then shrugged, nodding a little bit. 

“Okay, that’s a fair point.” 

They rode towards the river, skirting along until they found a break in the hedgerow down to the tow path- startling a man and his donkey who were towing a barge up towards Inslet. They barely gave him a wave before heading down the path, despite his protest that it wasn’t meant for riding, and a few expletives about nobles and their entitlement, just as they rode out of earshot. Roman frowned, but they didn’t have time to play nice with everyone. 

The tow path was surprisingly well maintained, perhaps four feet of packed earth, with little bridges over rivers that joined in that clacked beneath the horse’s hooves. They trotted, slowing only when they passed a barge and their towing animal. Most of the time they rode single file. It wasn’t good for talking, so they rode in silence, for the most part. The major flaw in that was it left them alone with their thoughts. Mid afternoon, there was a broad patch of meadow beside the path, and reluctantly, they let the horses rest and graze for a bit. It also gave them a chance to stretch their legs and eat more comfortably. 

“Well the summer light is still in; we’ve got a few more hours of light to ride in, and we’ve got a couple of luminance lamps, which will stretch us into dusk.” Erin said. 

“Without real landmarks, I’m not sure how far we’ve gone.” Logan commented, looking at the map. Patton took it away from him and adjusted his glasses. 

“I think- look the little rivers join the bigger here, we can count them.”

“Ah- yes, that would work.” Logan admitted. “I should have thought of that.” 

“It’s okay.” Patton grinned. “Do you have a pen or pencil?” Fishing into his pouch, Logan produced a mechanical pencil which Patton took and lay on his empty palm for a moment. After a second, it floated above his palm and pivoted, the tip pointing, Logan presumed, to the magnetic north. “Don’t worry, it’ll be perfectly normal when I return it, this is just temporary.” 

“If it wouldn’t interfere with using it normally, a pencil that pointed north might be a useful tool, given our situation.” Logan commented, watching Patton draw a few glyphs on the corner of the map, which glowed briefly, and then a little blue arrow appeared on the tow path. 

“Honestly, I could wish for a GPS.” Patton admitted. “This is fine for orienting yourself, but can’t give you an estimated time of arrival.” 

“Yes, but perhaps I can.” Looking the map over, Logan located the crossroads where they had met the messenger, and using the notches on the side of the mechanical pencil, measured the distance between, looking at the sky thoughtfully, then measuring the distance between the arrow and the town marker at Lake Amber, which, according to the map was a good sized lake, irregularly shaped with the main town- named, irritatingly Amber Lake- tucked into a sort of cape on the southern half. “If we were able to maintain the pace we’ve been at, I think we would need six to ten more hours of travel time. Maybe twelve depending on the terrain.” 

“Do you think?” Patton asked. 

“I’m reasonably certain. When we actually arrive depends on factors such as when we stop and rest, and I could probably be more accurate if I took the time to write the math out and had a watch, but yes.” 

Logan was surprised at the admiring look Patton was giving him. 

“You’re incredible.” 

“I’m really not.” Logan peered at the pencil again before putting it away, starting to roll the map up again. 

“No, you really are. I’m so glad that you came with us.” He pulled Logan into a full on hug, hard enough Logan felt his feet lift off the ground a bit.

“If I agree will you cease?” Logan choked out. 

“Well I’d rather you agree because you know how cool you are, but I’ll take what I can get.” Once released from the hug Logan sidled a few steps away, as if concerned Patton would do it again, which made the other man giggle. 

“Oh!” Patton said as if he’d just remembered, pulling a waxed paper bag out of his bag. “I bought these this morning, I think they’re just the energy boost we need right now.” The bag was more than half full of assorted cookies, divided between sandwich cookies with jam peeking out a window in the top, and more conventional brown rounds, like oatmeal or chocolate chip. He looked back up at Patton.

“I did think we were just riding back; no sense in letting them go to waste! Just letting them go to waist.” 

“I think we’re expending sufficient calories that we needn’t worry about that.” Logan retorted, selecting a few of the jam cookies. Patton grinned at him and took the bag around to everyone else. Between the sugar in the cookies and the impromptu, ridiculous monologue Roman gave about the inherent deceit and betrayal of oatmeal raisin cookies, everyone was in a better mood when they remounted for the next leg. 

They rode until dusk and then under lantern light walked the horses for another two miles before coming to another meadow. By now they’d all gotten used to the rhythm of rough nights, dividing the tasks and settling in. 

“I hate to do it to the horses, but we should get going early tomorrow. Think you can make a racket around dawn, Coonie?” 

Virgil was fiddling with the lute he’d borrowed from someone back at Victory’s Head, sort of a trade for his tambur, since the fellow was pretty sure he could fix it. 

“Sure, I’ll get something to bite your toes, that’ll make a racket.” 

“Or you could start caterwauling like a cat in heat, as you do. But I’m not one to step on someone’s kinks, unless they’re into that.” Remus grinned. 

Virgil rolled his eyes, but looked amused, and tuned another string, putting all his fussing into the instrument like a musical fidget toy. 

“The plan that we have is to go to the town; if we’re lucky, we will manage to get there before the company of the army does. With warning, they can pull in defensively. The support squads from the surrounding areas will hopefully show up not too long after that.” Roman said, chewing on a slice of apple. 

“It’s boring as shit, but Roman’s idea of negotiating with them probably isn’t a bad plan. We’re not really prepared for a pitched battle.” Remus added. 

“We don’t know how the people in Amber Lake are going to react to any of this, but for now, our main goal is just getting there in time.” 

“What I don’t get is what the usurper has against the Beast Hearted.” Virgil asked. “A lot of the new laws are to separate and weaken them. They aren’t being attacked like the Marked Mages, but clearly that was just a matter of time.”

“That’s right.” Roman said thoughtfully “They were being disallowed from joining the army, weren’t they?” 

“Which means they probably aren’t allowed to join the Impro Corps as well.” Janus murmured thoughtfully. “And those are two of the best ways to get out into the world if you don’t have money or connections.” 

“So I’ll bet they get handed shit ends in other ways too.” Virgil said, leaning forward. “And now this? The usurper has it in for them. I’ll bet there have been smaller attacks on other mostly Beast Hearted towns and we just haven’t caught wind of them. Things don’t start this big.”

“There’s also a chance that this is a trap of some sort.” Remus pointed out. “I mean, the pretty boy wasn’t, but I’ll be fucked sideways before I believe that the usurper doesn’t want to get his hands on Ro, one way or another. And I’m still on the fence about the Marquis.”

“He signed the agreement, Mess, in blood no less.” Roman retorted. 

“So he could be genuine- doesn’t mean he couldn’t be being used for a different effect.”

“What goes on in your head?” Roman asked, genuinely curious. 

“Hell of a lot. Usualy at least ten percent is thinking about fucking or fighting at any given time.” Remus grinned at his brother. “And that’s a bare minimum. Hmn. Bare.” He looked down at himself and shrugged his doublet off. “I’m gonna jump in the river real quick, anyone else up for it?” 

“Ugh, no.” Janus shivered just thinking about it. “Cold baths are for monks. I’ll be fine.” 

“Your loss.” Remus blew him a kiss and pulled his boots off, shedding his clothes in a trail until he disappeared into the night- followed by a loud splash. 

“Does he really think anyone is going to join him?” Logan asked. “It is summer, but I rather agree with Janus.” 

The mage smiled and leaned on Logan’s shoulder. 

“So good to have you on my side, beetree.” he purred. “You get the middle tonight.”

“I feel I am being used.” Logan said, amused. 

“Well you do enjoy it.” Janus smiled up at him charmingly. 

As promised, Virgil woke everyone just as the sky started to lighten in the east. He attempted to do so by pinching Remus’s toes as hard as he could, but it turned out that Remus had better reflexes than that. In the end, everyone was up and moving quickly, so it didn’t matter, they had a hard day's ride ahead of them. 

There was still daylight left when they reached the town center of the settlement of Amber Lake. They had passed scattered farms, and broad fields fenced in with woven stick fences, some with cattle and some with grain, still green and not yet ready for harvest. People in the fields raised their heads as the group passed, ears pricking curiously, but they went back to their work. 

The town center had a bell, a town hall, and a threshing or birthing barn that was really impressive, built with fieldstone up to shoulder level, then beamed to an arching roof. Blinds made of slatted wood were rolled up and tucked into the eves. It easily over shadowed the humble tavern on the other side of the square, which looked more like a common house than a place for travelers.

“Excuse me.” Roman said to a woman who was sitting outside the tavern, industriously spinning. “Is there a headman here? A town council? I am afraid I come bearing troubling news.” 

“... Alright, give a minute.” She responded, ears laid back. The woman looked to be more of a sheep type herself, with curling horns and close cut curls, staring at them suspiciously through strangely slit eyes. “You lot may use the well.” She added. 

“Thank you, ma’am.” They all dismounted and filled the trough, carefully watering the horses. It was a little odd at first; Beast Hearted were normally a minority, but everyone they saw here had at least the ears of an animal. 

“I never noticed how little Parslie showed her traits.” John said, easing a strap on his horse. 

“I noticed her ears were mobile and her eyes were shaped differently.” Logan said. 

“Well she’s got the Change, too.” John offered. “Them with the Change tend not to show as much when they’re at one end or the other.” 

“That’s fascinating.” Logan’s eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Parslie’s family is from Amber Lake.” 

“Is that good?” Patton asked. 

Erin made a face. 

“Well. She did marry a human. And a woman at that; lotsa Beast Hearted want the Change passed on, like there’s any kind of pattern in when it shows up.”

“There probably is.” Logan said offhandedly. “I’d need a great deal more data about Beast Hearted and the Change. Family trees as detailed and as far back as they could go. It’s probably a recessive gene, such as green eyes or being left handed.” 

“Don’t think they’d like that much.” Erin said simply. “Beast Hearted don’t tend to keep tight records on that kind of thing, even if they can name their lineage.” 

“Why not?” Logan asked, eyebrows drawn. Janus reached up and pressed two fingers to Logan’s jaw, closing his mouth. 

“Darling, consider; they are free in Sanders- but there are still kingdoms they are regarded as the livestock they present like.” Logan went deathly still, eyes flying open. Across the trough from him Remus gave a little nod. He swallowed and looked down at the reins in his hand, a strange sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“I see.” 

“That’s horrible.” John said, this apparently being news to him as well. He seemed to realise something. “Do you- do you think the usurper wants to make Sanders like that?” 

“Probably. It’d mean war with our current allies, but it might be worth it to him; that might even be his plan, if he wants a war. War is good for tyrants, historically.” Remus shrugged. 

“Very true.” Logan looked around the town square, as more Beast Hearted started to show up, staring at the unusual group of travelers. The most common features were that of basic carnivores, such as dogs and cats- though they might well have been foxes or lynxes, it would be hard for Logan to tell the difference from where he stood. While an extra cue, he could hardly say that the tails and ears helped him read their body language since he wasn’t sure what the movements meant. Also common were herd animals, sheep, horses, cows, and goats. He didn’t notice any birds or lizards and wondered if that was a coincidence or if those were types that the Beast Hearted didn’t come in. At last, the woman Roman had spoken to returned with a fairly tall tabby, with cream and reddish markings, one of the more animal-like Beast Hearted. Several others were following close behind. 

“Greetings;” his voice was deep and musical. 

“Greetings.” Roman returned bowing slightly with a palm to his chest. 

“Is there something we can help you with?” The tabby asked. 

“We come bearing an important message. There is a company of soldiers to the south, moving under orders to attack your town.” 

“What?” Said someone from the crowd. 

“Why would that be happening!?” Demanded someone else. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Calm down.” hissed the tabby. “You’re going to have to forgive, young man that we just don’t trust you.”

“No, I understand. I also know that there is very little proof we can offer you, since we made time as best as we could to beat them here.”

“There’s been odd smoke in the south, Lux.” said a woman with goat’s ears and horns. “I mentioned it last night.” 

“You did at that, Penny.” he scratched at his chin, and looked back at Roman, who smiled hopefully. 

“I apologise for this meeting,” Roman said respectfully. “I can show you the message sent by Parslie and Grand General Amorea, if you’d trust their seals more than me.”

“Parslie?” a shorter man with a husky build and impressive gray whiskers, as well as mobile ears stepped forward. “Parslie sent you lot?” 

“And not just us, but I think I’m getting ahead of things.” Roman reached into his pouch and offered the letter. “Are you the town council? I’d just like to introduce myself properly.” 

“That’s us.” the tabby said. “I’m Lux Iram, I’m the headman, as chosen by the town. This is Aby, Roan, Aven, and Selrie.” He pointed at a few of the others, including the man who knew Parslie. Selrie took the letter and sniffed at it thoughtfully, opening it and peering at the seals thoughtfully. 

“I’m glad to make your acquaintance. I’m Roman, the Crown Prince of Sanders.”

“Are you now?” Lux said ears going up, but face fairly unruffled and skeptical.

“Yes. I was exiled to an adjacent world until recently. Having come back, I’m working with the resistance against the usurper king.” 

“Have to admit our goods been taxed a little high, these last few years.” Said Roan, a long faced woman with a pony tail and ears high on her head. 

“Big jump from that to being attacked by the army.” Aven said thoughtfully, tail lashing. His hair was white, but he only had a few wrinkles, around his eyes and forehead. Like Parslie, the tips of his ears were slightly pointy, and tipped in black. 

“Is it?” 

“Where’s Tegan?” 

“Coming, coming!” a petite young woman with short brown hair, tipped in white came running out of the crowd. 

“Are you up for it today?” Aven asked, looking at her seriously. “They say there’s a large number of people in the south, coming our way.” 

Tegan peered at the horizon. 

“How far?” 

Aven turned to Roman, who in turn looked at Logan. Logan was already pulling out the map and stepping forward. 

“Our best guess would be here, going from where the garrison they supposedly started from was. If someone saw campfire smoke to the south they may be closer than we think, but probably still in this direction.” 

“Couple dozen miles beyond the far fields.” Teagan nodded. “I can do that.” 

Logan wondered what she was going to do, when she drew herself down and jumped into the air. He almost lost grip on the map as wind lashed down and he stared as an enormous falcon, almost the size of an albatross disappeared up into the sky. He could only stare after her. 

“Wow.” Remus confirmed. 

“Now then, we have other questions to ask.” 

“Parslie did write this.” Selrie said, holding the message. “She seems to think you are who you say you are.”

“Which is a wonderful coincidence.” joked Roman. “Because so do I.” 

“See the thing is,” Lux said. “If they’re coming to attack us because of a connection with the rebellion, and we have you; what’s to stop us from turning you lot over so they’ll leave us alone?” 

There was a long tense moment, Virgil’s eyes surveyed the crowd as if guessing who was going to attack first.

“Nice thought.” Remus grinned, propping a hand on his hip and looking at his nails. “Counter offer- what’s to stop them from wiping you out anyway? Honor? Since the law is  _ clearly  _ not any kind of barrier here.” 

“In fact I’d wager that it would make them more likely to wipe you out.” Janus added. 

Lux considered that. “Well that’s probably true.” 

“So, while we have your attention, what do you think of the current king?” Janus asked. 

There was a low growl from somewhere in the small crowd, and a hiss of ‘cut that out’ 

“Yes, he’s not exactly making himself personable to minorities of late is he?” He tossed his hair back over his shoulder, and raised his eyebrows. The lowering sunlight hit his face and the scars on it. 

“Yes well.” Roan frowned. “Government be like that.”

“Oh, and your little council here? Is it like that?” 

“Not the same thing.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

“They all know us. The King, his council, they’re all nobles. They don’t know craftspeople, farmers, barely know mechants, beyond sending the tax man on us. Nothing but numbers.” 

“That is the fundamental place where they go wrong.” Roman said, interrupting whatever Janus was about to say. “There are, after all a lot more people like you than them.”

“‘You’ and ‘them’?” Aven asked. “Which one are you?” 

“I’m me.” Roman said simply. “I got used to a different system while I was exiled, equally as corrupt in a lot of ways. I can’t help but feel there has to be a way to do better.” he smiled. “I’d rather be an ‘us’ than one of the two.” 

“You’ve got a pretty mouth on you.” Selrie commented thoughtfully.

“Thank you?” Roman looked a little uncomfortable. 

“He means you talk nice, dumbass.” Remus laughed. 

“Sorry, I’m used to that being a prelude to a different kind of encounter.” Roman admitted rubbing the back of his neck. “Script got a little confused there.” 

There was a hawk’s scream above them. 

“Back up-” yelled Aven. 

“Make a path!” added Lux, the two of them spreading their arms and backing away from each other. The crowd of Beast Hearted backed up, and Roman and his group did so as well. The enormous wingspan of the hawk came barreling down, backwinging and as it swooped down, Tegan transformed back, running along the open path to slow herself down. At the edge of the town square she rested for a long second, gasping, hands on her knees half bent over. Aven snapped at someone and they brought him a bottle from one of the houses, as Tegan turned back around and stumbled towards him. 

“Holy shit!” She gasped. “They were right; I counted-” Aven pressed the bottle to her lips and she gulped at it, leaning on his shoulder. “I counted at least ninety five men. All armed. Probably less than ten horses, though. About maybe twenty miles away? You know distances get a little funny sometimes. They weren’t near any landmark I knew.”

“I know Tegan, thank you.” Aven rubbed her shoulders and she rested her forehead on his shoulder. 

“Like a patch of misplaced sea.” She continued. “All blue-y green.”

Remus looked at Lux expectantly, and after a moment, so did Roman.

“Alright, you were right about the army. So why come, why not just send a warning?” 

“Well what’s better than a warning?” Roman asked, “Help.”

“...” Lux looked at them. “The eight of you?”

“We are very good, but no.” Roman smiled. “There are pockets of the resistance around, and they should be sending squads; Victory’s Head is also sending fighters, but we were a day closer and took a shortcut.” 

Logan came up beside him with the map again. 

“We received the news outside of Inslet, and were able to follow the river down to the lake, then take the skirting road to your town. This is their most likely route from Victory’s Head. Not knowing their speed, my best guess is they will arrive sometime tomorrow, maybe next day.” 

“I only checked the south, Aven, I’m sorry.” Tegan said, breath finally slowing. 

“That is fine, Tegan, you did exactly what you were supposed to.” he assured her. 

“I might be able to go again tomorrow?” she offered. 

“We’ll see how you are tomorrow.” Aven replied almost fondly. “Leais, can you help Tegan to bed? Don’t worry; I will come and tell you what’s happening as soon as we know.” A large fellow with wavy auburn hair, huge eyes and broad horns came up and picked the girl up, which seemed a bit like overkill, taking her back to one of the houses. 

Lux sighed, shaking his head, tail lashing back and forth at the tip. 

“Well then, ‘your highness’ let’s talk.”

“If we’re talking, it’s Roman.” 

The headman paused, looking at Roman as though assessing him before answering. 

“If you say so- you can put your horses in the threshing barn, and we’ll call meeting. Roan, send someone round to the farmsteads with the news.” 

“Will do.” 

“Your highness?” Erin said, quietly. They, like Remus, were still much more skilled in tending their horses and generally finished before Roman. 

“What is it?” Roman asked. 

“I would have spoken to his grace but- they should have sent a message here, as well. They should have known we were coming.” 

“We may have outpaced them, that tow path was very direct.” Roman offered. 

“Yeah, that could be it, or…”

“I can see your point.” Roman rubbed Meridia's side making sure she was clean of sweat. He wasn’t a great judge of it, but their horses seemed exhausted after their mad dash to get to Amber Lake, so he wanted to take care of them properly. “Talk to Janus or Patton; they might have some way of finding out.”

The guard nodded. 

“I love how they’re talking about the eight of us,” Virgil drawled. “Like I could do anything in a battle.” 

“We could get you some bagpipes and you could play Welcome to the Black Parade.” 

“Okay first off, fuck you.” Virgil groweld. “I can’t believe you’re still on about that.” 

“You take one lesson in how to play a bagpipe and decide to try that?” Roman continued to tease him. “That’s your go-to recogniseable song?” 

“Roman I swear-” 

The meeting with the town council was chaotic, the town hall filled with Beast Hearted, craftsmen and workers, each desperate to put in their own thoughts. 

While most of them had been neutral about the resistance before, now, when it was tipping to revolution, they seemed to be coming down more on the revolution’s side. The twins found this cautiously optimistic, young people of all genders and some older ones more than willing to throw themselves into the fight. 

Amber Lake specialized in producing leather, most of their agriculture supported that, but the people who worked it were still strong and nimble. There were more tanners than there were leatherworkers, but there was a workshop that made the leather armor used by the army. The head of that shop, Larimar, was very insulted that the army would attack them, for whatever reason, and had some very salty words to say about it. They immediately agreed to open their warehouse to armor the resistance. 

Remus waded into their volunteers, separating them out into groups of people who would do well as fighting on the frontline, versus simply defending their homes in case it got that close, even singling out a few younger, faster volunteers as good people to keep watch. 

As makeshift weapons came out- sickles, scythes, threshers, maddocks, staffs- as well as bows and arrows, long hunting knives, and the occasional boar spear, Virgil waded in to help them sharpen the farming implements that had been in storage. 

Roman and Janus talked with the council, as they talked about the fields to the south, between them and the army, and where it would be best to try and force the confrontation to avoid damaging the fields of crops. Fallow fields and pastrage would take the least damage, and there were a couple nearby, only slightly to the west of where Tegan had spotted the company. They could certainly be lured in that direction with little trouble. 

They were all put up for the night in the town hall, after everything was more or less settled. Despite his exhaustion, Roman had trouble sleeping, staring at the beams of the building, barely visible in the darkness. It was one thing to get into a fight, or to jump in and defend someone, but it was another to know you would be going into battle in the next few days. He tried to frame it like going to a big SCA event where there was a field battle, the faceless helms staring out back at him, and the thrum of adrenaline and anticipation. Sadly he kept going back to Veert’s terrified face, and the bodies and blood scattered around the courtyard of the villa. Scrambling up out of his bedroll, he dashed out of the town hall and found himself on the common, where there was grass, and a floral border that hid the contents of his stomach. 

Roman smacked a fist against his stomach, fighting back tears. 

“Stop it.” he ordered. “Stop it, we can’t do this.” He folded up covering his face with his hands and rocking back and forth. “C’mon Roman, get with the program, you're gonna be a hero.” He scrubbed the tears he couldn’t stop away. “Princes are heroes. They save people. They don’t cry.” He tried to stand up, but his legs trembled and he went back down. He took a frantic gulp of air, and swallowed it down, knocking his fist against his chest again, and curled up, smacking the ground. “Be the prince you always wanted to be. Save people. Do good. Be charming.” 

“That’s on the list?” The moon was a milky blur of a thick curve in the sky, veiled by thin clouds. Virgil was like a shadow in the dark colors he preferred, smudges of makeup still around his eyes, even though he was supposed to be asleep. “ _ Charming _ ? You don’t have to work at that you know.” 

“What would you know?” Mumbled Roman miserably. 

“I know you.” crouching down, he rubbed a hand along Roman’s spine. Unconsciously Roman relaxed a bit at the touch, hand running up to the nape of his neck and scratching so gently. “You don’t have to try to be princely. You’ve got this.” 

“I can’t get over it.” Roman cried quietly, leaning on Virgil. 

“Good. Don't get used to it.” Virgil ordered. “Don’t let it become just something that happens.” he took a deep breath. “Sometimes we do things that we wish we didn’t have to; things we’d consider wrong any other time. You can avoid them as much as possible, but sometimes it still happens.” his fingers moved up, carding through Roman’s hair. “You’re built to shine, Roman,but sometimes things have to get dirty to shine up their best. That’s what they call it, you know; grit.” 

“That was terrible. I think we’ve determined why you don’t  _ write  _ songs.” Roman chuckled, leaning into the caress, and the thick, soft wool of Virgil’s coat. The wind blew over them, carrying the smell of hay and wood smoke. 

“Fuckoff.” Virgil said gently. 

“How did you deal with it?” 

“What makes you think I’m over it?” he sighed, and lay down on the grass. Roman lay down with him, their heads close to each other, and fingers tangled together. “It’s stupid.”

“Can’t be any stupider than me trying to convince myself they’re gonna get up when it’s over and fight me over bread at the feast.” Roman sighed. 

“I think of you-”

“Aw, you're a sap.” Teased Roman.

“No, stop.” Virgil sighed and swallowed. “I think about you  _ dead _ . And Logan. And Patton and Janus and Remus, and Andy sometimes. I can’t stop thinking about it some nights. You guys lying in pools of blood, or lying in the grass or the mud and I don’t even see the blood at first.” He squeezed Roman’s hand. “And then I fucking get up and I check on you and watch you breath like a helicopter parent.” 

“Heh.”

“What about that is funny?”

“You’d be a heliotropic helicopter. Cuz purple.” 

Virgil snorted, and looked over. Roman was staring at him. 

“So that’s it?” 

“It’s an us or them sort of thing, and that’s not great.” Virgil admitted. “But I think I can deal with  _ me  _ being a bad person. But I don’t want you to be. Because you’re… you’re stupid storybook good. They never talk about the people who the heroes kill on the way, you know, the minions and shit.”

“That’s true.” Roman admitted. “But in the end, the hero kills the dragon, rescues the damsel… sire-sel?” Roman derailed trying to think of a masculine equivalent. “And they’re still the hero. Even if they’re one of those heroes that wins by befriending the fox and stuff.” 

They were both silent for a long time, and Virgil rolled up on the side. 

“Let’s get you back in bed, huh? Tomorrow’s going to be long, even if you don’t have to kill anyone.” 

Reluctantly, Roman got to his feet, and looked back towards the town hall. Reaching out, he took Virgil’s hand, and pulled him close so they were shoulder to shoulder. 

“For the record?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay with you watching me sleep, Edward Sullen.” 

The morning was bright, and as always full of birds, the addition of chickens- and thereby roosters, was not a welcome one. Logan watched with bemused interest as Remus and Roman each made coffee in their own fashion, jostling and poking at each other good naturedly. Aven, who had come to see if they needed anything, was also watching, as if confused by this ritual. 

“I believe it started as a joke,” Logan said. “But at this point, I hardly mind either way. It does assure me coffee every morning, which is a pleasant certainty in an uncertain world.” 

“I am among the Beast Hearted that cannot drink coffee, but I enjoy the smell.” 

“That’s a pity.” 

“Perhaps, but it does save on beans, which are imported.” Aven was Lux’s husband, and the doctor for the town, a duty which was much more involved than one might expect, there being any number of ways that one could get hurt skinning animals and tanning leather, not to mention the day to day dangers of agriculture. If there was a battle coming, he would be seeing a great deal of work. The clear dawn had revealed traces of smoke to the south, but only traces, meaning they were taking care to burn clean wood that wouldn’t give off much smoke. 

However, mid morning, a group of twelve people, most of whom were Beast Hearted, approached the town. They wore armbands with the interlocking circle design from the Sanders flag, which was apparently a common way for the members of the resistance to identify themselves- the cloth could be taken off and worn in a different way to avoid notice, or even destroyed in an emergency. They were absolutely awestruck to meet Remus and Roman. 

Virgil found that hilarious. 

Around noon, the lookout watching south spotted a sudden flight of birds rising from beyond a hill to the south. Shortly after that, another group of resistance fighters, a group of younger sons from noble families who had all left their homes together to find the resistance, mounted on long legged horses arrived from the east. One of them had met Remus before, and confirmed something that Roman had had a hard time believing; many lesser noble houses, counts and barons, supported the resistance in many small ways, giving them supplies, or most commonly, looking the other way when they were in their lands. A few had come to meet with him, both in Smithport and at Victory’s Head, but the presence of the younger sons in the resistance really drove it home to him. They would probably never be more than minor nobles- well knights, if they were lucky, but they believed in the idea of the resistance, and the promise of a crown prince they’d never met, and they’d ridden out to aid a town of Beast Hearted, which from their glances, weren’t something they were used to. Roman felt better despite the oncoming confrontation. Larimar, the armorer, having found out Roman didn’t technically have any armor, was customising a set for him, which was kind of touching and mind boggling, because Roman knew what it would cost from an artisan in the SCA. 

It was terrifying not knowing how close the company was getting. One of the other townsfolk who had the change offered to scout in wolven form. He even knew that there was a pack of wolves in the area, though they tended to stay on the other side of Lake Amber. While Janus and Roman agreed that using an animal form to scout, as clever and useful as it was, carried a certain level of risk- the company knew they were heading towards a Beast Hearted settlement, and even if they didn’t think the settlement knew they were coming, they might be hyper alert to animals acting oddly. In the end Remus overruled them both and asked him to do it. Caution was one thing, but they needed to know. Stark and his teenaged daughter, Elenor, who also had the change (a fairly rare event, even in wolves) bolted off, low between the fields. Roman stood below the lookout and had them call him updates until the pair were out of sight. 

When the next group of resistance fighters arrived, Roman was getting fitted with armor. Given the tooling and the decorations on the heavy leather, he could tell that this wasn’t something that had been made for the army, and they were adjusting it to fit him. The quality of the leather and construction was the only reason it came down on the side of functional rather than fanciful. It was already nicer than anything he’d ever owned. Several of the other fighters had gleefully gotten sets of simple leather, arm guards, and greaves and a chestplate. The young ‘renegade’ nobles had armor similar to it, though not quite as nice, dyed and tooled. 

Meanwhile Logan fussed over the numbers of the thing. 

“Tegan estimated about ninety five men, I think I can safely round that up to a hundred, there’s the eight of us, the twelve resistance fighters, the nine mounted fighters, approximately thirty five fighters from the village, plus five archers who shouldn’t be in combat, but might be able to help if they got into position, less myself Virgil and Janus- though Janus may fall into the same category as the archers, and V may go anyway…” he drummed his fingers on the map spread over the table. Teagan had come out with a map of the immediate area, which she had apparently drawn herself, from memory, but was much more focused on the features of the surrounding town. The answer was not hopeful, being nearly two to one- there was some psychological benefit to protecting one’s home. 

“Hey sexy.” Remus leaned over Logan’s shoulder and looked at the map, before stealing a kiss. “Another squad of eight came in, I’ve got them napping looks like they were marching all night.” Framing Logan with his arms he stared over his shoulder, looking at the map. 

“Thank you.” Logan said quietly. 

“What, for kissing you? I’ll do that for free.” as if to demonstrate, Remus ducked his head a little so he could kiss Logan’s neck. 

“For letting me handle the maps; it makes me feel… less useless.” 

“Ain’t no ‘let’, honeytrap. I noticed back in the Tangle Trap, you’ve got a good mind for that kind of thing. I should be thanking you.” He nuzzled into Logan’s hair, practically purring into his ear. “And I  _ will  _ if you let me.” 

“I don’t think now is the time.” 

“It’s not not the time?” He stopped however, just resting his body against Logan and looking at the map. “I am serious though, serious as the plague. You’ve made yourself real useful, and I’m so glad you’re here, and not just for the eye candy. You’re gonna keep yourself safe?” he added, thoughts veering sideways. 

“It would be foolish of me to put myself in danger.” Logan assured him. “I hope you’ll be as safe as you can be.” Remus didn’t answer for a moment.

“Got a lot to come back to, and I’m good at what I do. Don’t worry too much for me.” 

“Hrm. I think I’ll take a figurative page from Virgil’s book. ‘Bitch, you can’t stop me.’”

Stark sent Elenor back with messages, dashing back and forth from the village and the slowly approaching company. They were going slowly as they tried to conceal their movements, and a few well placed howls and appearances managed to head them more towards the fields they wanted them in. Once they were certain of the trajectory they came back to town. Despite everything, Stark was unruffled and Elenor barely panting when they resumed their humanoid forms. 

“They’re going to be hitting the point where it’ll be less subtle soon.” Stark nodded at the map. “If they scout out, they'll want to cross the irrigation stream here, where there’s a ford, which’ll put them out where we want them.”

“So if I wanted to approach and negotiate, that would be my best bet.” Roman said, frowning down at it. 

“You’re still going to try that?” Janus looked concerned. 

“I’d rather not go into a two to one battle.” Roman said seriously. “What if it did work?” 

“Alright fine.” he sighed looking put upon. “White flags are surrender across the board, if you want parlay you need a green branch.” 

“I can get it!” Elenor cried, hopping up from where she was sprawled against the wall. She dashed off at top speed.

“I asked her not to get involved with the battle.” Stark said blandly, yawning as if showing his disinterest. “So she wants to take part as much as she can.” 

Roman couldn’t help but smile at that. 

“I can help with that, maybe.” he offered. 

When Elenor came back with a branch, full of dark glossy leaves, Roman took it, and thanked her. 

“You’ve done so much this morning, I thought you might be willing to do something else for me.” 

Her eyes lit up. 

“Logan is very strong, but he’s not a fighter. If you could stay with him and keep him safe I’d appreciate it. You also know the area, so you’d be able to give him details for the map, and are more than capable of running messages. You’d make a good assistant for him.” He nodded at Logan, who glanced back and forth between the teen and Roman, then nodded. “Will you guard him?” 

Elenor considered the request, then nodded. 

“I’ll keep your paramour safe, your highness.” 

Roman offered her his hand and they shook on it, much to her confusion, and then glee.

“I swear, Ro, your egalitarian impulses are gonna fuck everyone up.” Remus chuckled. 

“Well introducing a little isn’t a bad thing.” Roman mumbled. Logan looked at them both. 

“I hope neither of you is expecting a favor or some courtly love nonsense like that.” 

“Maybe later.” Roman leaned in and kissed Logan’s cheek. “Sadly I’m a little hard and spiky for a hug right now. But wish me luck.”

“Unrealistic. My wishing will have no effect. But..” Logan kissed his cheek back. “For what it is worth, I hope you stay safe.” He turned and kissed Remus’s cheek as well. “You as well. Though you need to shave.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Well you’re not exactly baby butt smooth at the moment either.” Remus retorted, and kissed Logan back, hugging despite his armor. 

“Ugh, Roman was correct, that was uncomfortable.” Logan sighed. “Try again when you come back.” 

Patton came rushing in. 

“I saw the girl bring you a branch- we’re going?” 

Roman nodded, and Patton pulled a clay disk from his pouch, quickly gouging a glyph in it, and breaking it in two, handing half to Logan. 

“When this changes color, put it on the compass of the map, it’ll be something like the location spell. It’ll only last an hour or so, but that’ll be plenty.”

“Thank you.” 

Out in the town square and on the common, their forces, such as they were, had gathered. Remus veered to the side to pull Janus away from Aven long enough to kiss him, while Roman walked right over to Virgil, who was holding the reins of his horse and Roman’s which had a leather and larimar shield on it. There was a rendition of Roman’s seal painted on it, with the stylized circle-star of Sanders replacing the ‘S’. Roman could see plain black dyed leather armor peeking out from beneath the robe-coat Virgil was wearing. 

“Can’t talk you out of coming?” Roman asked, the branch braced on his shoulder. 

“Nope.” 

“Right. Let’s fuck up some plans.” Remus bumped shoulders with Roman as he passed. 

“Whose?” Roman said, mounting up. 

“We’ll find out!” 

Roman’s nerves were singing as he waited, watching neat rows of soldiers walking towards the ford where they stood. He could see the reaction of the mounted officer when they spotted him. Roman had insisted that everyone else stand back at least two yards- a negligible distance, frankly. There were four mounted men at the head of the company, and they drew together briefly then one raised a palm at Roman. Roman saluted with the branch. After a moment a fan snapped out and signaled something. Roman glanced back at Remus who nodded. Settling the branch across his lap, Roman nudged Merida forward into the broad, shallow ford, turning sideways so she blocked it with her body. The man who’d signaled with the fan moved forward as well, one of the others following at a slight distance. As they got closer, Roman spotted small glyphs under the eyes of the second man, black interlace going down the arms of his duck-neck green jacket.

“What are you doing here?” the officer demanded as he drew within speaking distance, his horse picking up their feet slightly as the stream moved past. 

“Hail and well met!” Roman said cheerfully. “I might ask you the same question.” 

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to clear the ford. By order of the King, I am taking the third company through here.”

“Oh, to where?” Roman inquired lightly. 

The officer frowned, obviously not used to being challenged. 

“That is none of your business. Stand aside, chevalier.” 

“Ah, I’m afraid it is.” He played with a smooth bit of wood in his ungloved hand idly. “I request that you turn away from your current plan, sir, and avoid making an unprovoked attack on a craftstown.” 

“Who do you think you are?!” 

Roman grinned, and snapped the thin bit of wood between his fingers. 

“In answer to your questions,” he said, his voice now amplified by the spell Patton had put on the twig, clear and audible to the gathered troops. “I am here to stop you, I think I am staying in your way, and I am Roman, Crown Prince of Sanders. You wear the crest of my country, and match under the orders of an usurper. I will not allow you to move forward with hostility. You may turn around and leave, or you may choose to disperse, but if you intend to move forward, I will not allow it.” 

In the ranks of soldiers in the other field, there was a ripple of movement, like people were whispering to each other. 

“Do you think I’m stupid? The Crown Prince was dead long before King Cadmus was crowned!” Hissed the officer. 

“Not dead. Exiled. And now, returned. Are you willing to be the first hostility of the revolution?” he kept smiling. “I understand your options are limited, so I am giving you this chance to surrender.” 

“Surrender!?” he sounded offended. “To what? A handful of youths and a single Marked Mage?” 

Roman tiled his head invitingly. 

“Even if you  _ were  _ the Crown Prince, you are still in rebellion against the King. Perhaps  _ you’d  _ like the chance to surrender, instead of getting yourself killed.” he snapped. 

“Fuckoff!” Yelled Remus, standing in his stirrups. 

“Serious negotiation time, Remus, butt out!” yelled Roman back. “Sorry about that. But yeah, no. Surrender is only on the table for you- I didn’t catch your name ster?”

“ _ Sir _ . Sir Seth Abber.” Retorted the officer, buffing out his chest, the gold and black tassels that fell from his shoulders bouncing. “History will not be on your side, idiot.” 

“We’ll find out together, won’t we?” he extended the branch, offering it and Abber smacked it down into the stream with the fan he’d signaled with. There was another ripple in the soldiers, like a wave in their teal-blue uniforms. “Ah, well. That’s unfortunate. Still, in the end, every person must make their own decision.” 

“You naive fool. I will see you captured.” 

“If you cross the ford, you are welcome to try.” Dropping the bit of wood and ending the spell, Roman pulled his gauntlet on, and unhooked the helmet from the saddle horn, settling it into place before turning and riding back towards the others. 

Patton took out the half the disk from earlier and flipped it into the air, watching it spin end over end until it hit the earth of the fallow field. 

“The shot heard ‘round the world…” Hummed Virgil, as they retreated across the field, stopping at the tree in the center. The rest of their force came up to meet them. 

“Last chance to head back.” Roman offered, wondering if he should get off his horse and fight on foot. He decided to, since he had almost no practice fighting mounted. Something to practice later, he wasn’t a great rider just yet. “Or stay at the edge and come up with witty, bitter remarks.” 

“I don’t want to get too far from you. To try to keep you from being any stupider than this.” 

Roman flipped the visor of his helmet down, watching the soldiers emerge up the bank from the ford. Cresting the top of his helm’s visor was a stylized crown, similar to the one in his seal. 

“It’s just a field battle.” He lied.

There was blood on his sword, on his shield, on his teeth. His shoulders ached. His mouth hurt. That was probably where the blood came from. Every now and again, he’d face a soldier, and they’d look at him, and fall to the ground as if he’d struck them when he hadn’t. He couldn’t help but feel that might make sense to him some other time. But right now it didn’t. Block, strike, move forward- protect someone without a shield long enough for them to get up. And sometimes they didn’t, and he turned and struck again. Distantly he was sure he could hear his brother’s wild laughter, but that didn’t matter. 

“Roman!” 

Blood, he realised, wasn’t really red, not red like his armor had been painted before. Now it was red like blood too, caught in the grooves.

“Roman!” 

Oh wait, that was him. Roman blinked up at Virgil, who’d thrust the flank of his horse between him and his fight. Virgil extended a hand. 

“Roman, you need to get up where people can see you, NOW. Our support had arrived.” 

None of those words made sense. But Virgil’s hand was pale and uncovered, so Roman took it, sticking the tip of his sword in the ground to do so. Virgil halted with all his strength, and Roman got it, tucking his foot into the stirrup and swinging up behind Virgil. 

“My sword-” he said muzzily, and Virgil leaned down, yanking it out of the ground, passing it back to him. That was good. He needed that. He shook the blood off of it, sending a spatter to the ground, and leaned against Virgil as the horse moved beneath them. There was a noise beyond the roar in his head, it sounded happy. 

And suddenly, Roman remembered who he was, and what was going on. He lifted his head, and looked around. There were bodies, scattered about, but also people on their feet, on their knees- and there, behind the pale line of army soldiers were a line in the red and brown from Victory’s Head. And they were cheering as the remaining people in blue threw down their weapons. Virgil’s elbow nudged him. 

“Raise your shield.” 

Roman did, and yes, that was definitely a cheer.

Somehow they’d won. 

Roman managed to pull himself together enough to recognise that one of the prisoners they’d taken was Sir Abber, who’d taken a blow across the face. The Marked Mage that had followed him had surrendered to Patton almost as soon as Abber had gone down. Despite his wound and blood loss, the knight was still spitting vitriol at the mage who had resolutely turned away from him. 

“I could bandage him up and tape his mouth shut.” Virgil suggested. Roman shook his head, which made it hurt worse. Something had landed a blow to the side of his head, and his helmet kept it from being really harmful, but he was still a little dizzy now that he wasn’t in a fugue state. Patton said that he didn’t have a concussion, and a bit of rest and water would probably put him to rights. 

Out of the sixty some fighters that had followed them into battle, they’d lost five, and they might lose another if they didn’t heal right, having gotten a tricky wound. No one was unmarked, Virgil had a gash on his thigh that made it hard for him to walk where a soldier had tried to pull him off his horse. Aurora, the horse, also had a few small cuts on her flanks and wethers, but like Virgil was more testy than slowed down. 

“Good Evening, Sir Abber.” Roman said pleasantly. The knight glared at him, sitting cross legged on the ground, arms tied behind him. Most of the prisoners- many of them covered in dirt but mostly intact except for bruises- had consented to be tied. “I’ve had a look at your orders, and they are not pretty.” 

“You are no kind of king, you know.”

“Not yet.” Roman agreed. “But I don’t think a king should be ordering the army to attack a town of civilians, especially with orders to take as many prisoners as possible, for transport to a penal camp. That kind of thing is how slavery starts.” 

The knight muttered something not making eye contact, and Roman tapped his foot against the other man’s knee. 

“I didn’t catch that?”

“Can’t enslave animals.” 

Roman clenched his teeth. 

“I see. Is that a personal conviction, or more of a new policy?” 

Abber didn’t answer, or make eye contact. 

Parslie, who had come with the soldiers from Victory’s head, came up and patted Roman’s shoulder. 

“You start back to town with your wounded, your highness. We’ll bring the prisoners.”

“How many?” 

“What?”

“How many prisoners?” he asked. 

“More than your original force, Roman.” Parslie told him. “Go on.” 

Logan had watched the arrows of the two forces clash on the map like particularly argumentative ants. When they stilled for the most part, he exhaled slowly, and looked up to see Janus staring at him. 

“It doesn’t get easier.” Janus told him. “And it doesn’t matter if you just wait, or go with them.”

Logan rubbed at his chin, considering. 

“You’ve seen Remus through a great deal, haven’t you?” 

“I don’t see your point.” 

“You find it worth it, don’t you? Or you wouldn’t keep doing it.” 

“I wonder.” 

Logan shook his head. 

“Elenor, the battle is over; I need to you to go just close enough to find out who won; it doesn’t matter who did, come back without engaging.” 

Elenor leapt to her feet, and dove out the door of the townhall, landing on four feet. The young wolf was out of sight before Logan made it to the door. 

“You know who won, don’t you?” Janus asked, peering down at the map. 

“Yes. We’ll need to prepare for the wounded however.” He looked at the map one last time, but didn’t roll it up, instead stepping around and carefully approaching Janus. “It does no real good to double the amount of worry.” He said. “Rationally I know this; just as I know no one can keep him from being reckless, no matter who worries.” 

Janus looked sideways at Logan from under his hair, thoughtfully. 

“Well, I have to warn you that rational thinking is going to be in short supply with Remus around.”

“I’d noticed.” 

“I’m glad to have you.” Janus swayed into him,and Logan let his cheek rest on the top of the other man’s head, savoring the quiet moment before the incoming chaos. Treating the wounded was its own kind of battle.

“I can’t believe you pulled it off.” Remus said, sounding admiring. 

“Neither can I.” Roman admitted. “If it hadn’t worked, I don’t know if we would have won.” 

Remus went to say something and yelped instead. 

“Babysnakes please, that’s not the kind of pain I like.” he whined.

Janus just grunted, prodding at the muscles of Remus’s back. Remus had spearheaded the capture of the officers, capturing three out of five of them. Once they were captured, he’d flung himself into the thick of the battle- and sadly had dislocated his left shoulder. And being Remus, rather than retreating, he’d tucked it into his belt and fought one handed, making it worse. The muscles of his back had stayed loose enough to move while they were warm, but when they cooled down on the trip back to Amber Lake, they had seized up, locking the problem in place. Even with that, he hadn’t regarded his wounds to be serious enough to warrant immediate treatment, compared to some of the others, so he had patiently waited until the last round. Janus had been working minor magics on the muscles for over an hour, massaging them until they were loose again. 

“I think that’ll do it. Logan, on my mark, pull as hard as you can.”

“Why are you making  _ him  _ do it?” Remus complained. “I feel ganged up on.”

“If you refuse to take proper care of yourself,” Logan said, putting his hands on the strap wound around Remus’s arm. “Then we will take care of you in the fashion we deem appropriate.” 

“I can think of better ways to be taken care o-aaaaaaghh! Blistering bilgefucks! What happened to your mark, Jan!?” 

“I never said  _ you’d  _ know it.” the Mage said mildly and pressed his hands down hard on the abused joint, leaning on it, making Remus give a long drowned out whine that turned into a moan, before he relaxed suddenly, laying still and panting. “There. Try not to do anything too stupid for a few days.” 

“I have the disturbing feeling I know what Remus’ ‘o’ face looks like now.” Roman commented. “Aren’t there easier ways to do that?” 

“Mnn yes, but I’m exhausted.” Janus lay down on his stomach next to Remus on the camp bed. The units from Victory’s Head had brought supplies with them, and with the town hall being full of wounded, they’d moved to a tent. There were two camp beds, and the twins had been dumped in them. “If he wanted gentle, he should have gotten to me before the end of the day.” 

Unwinding the strap from Remus’s arm, Logan tucked the arm back against his chest, and covered them both with a blanket. Roman relaxed with Virgil curled up against his chest, looking asleep, though it was anyone’s guess if he actually was, as sometimes he would answer completely coherently while seemingly unconscious. Patton entered with Parslie by his side. 

“Are you asleep?” He asked.

“No.” Said Roman, but put an arm over his eyes, wincing as he encountered bruises. 

“Yes.” Answered Remus, face down in a cushion. 

“Wonderful!” Patton said cheerfully. “Parslie has the final tally for the day.”

“Did Tamin make it?” Roman asked, moving his arm. 

“Tamin looks like they’ll pull through, though they’ll probably limp for a season at least.” Parslie assured him. “I wanted to congratulate you. Not many commanders have such a successful first battle, especially not with the odds you had.” She smiled a little bit, ears flicking in amusement “Of course, there were a large number of ‘downed men’ in the company that just seemed to have fallen over where they stood.” Her expression hardened a little “They’re lucky that they were for the most part facing inexperienced fighters. More hardened soldiers would have made sure they were down, instead of trusting it. From what they said- and they’ve organized themselves into a different group among the prisoners- they heard what you said Roman, and decided that the best way to surrender was to play dead, which is frankly kind of inspired.” 

Virgil giggled. 

“What’s so funny?” Roman asked. 

“Galavant. ‘I recommend you fall.’”

“... I could go for some raisins, frankly.” 

“I’m sure that makes sense to the two of you.” Logan said blandly. 

“I spoke to Arydth, the mage with the company; he’d gotten reports of Roman, and according to him, the rank and file know about him, though there’s a great deal of debate about what it means.” Patton put in. “He’s with the Circle on it, but he said he can’t guarantee all of the Mages attached to the army are. Apparently there was a rumor going around earlier this year that Marked Mages who joined the army would be protected from being Scrubbed. A lot of them joined.”

“That’s clever.” Janus commented. “Despicable, but clever.” 

“All in all, we have fifty-five prisoners.” Parslie said, looking down at the papers in her hands. “Twenty-eight have injuries, and five soldiers died before they could be seen to. The official count was ninety five for the company, not including the officers.” She frowned. “The bad news is that five soldiers are unaccounted for, including a sergeant. Some of the townsfolk who didn’t want to fight have volunteered to try to track them down, however. ” 

“Part of me thinks we should let them go, like we did the survivors of the Leafpoints.” Roman admitted. “But the situation is a little different here. At this point, we need to protect Amber Lake, too. If they are headed back to their commanders, another company might be sent here, and I doubt we’re going to stick around, and it’s just not feasible to get the entire town to leave.” 

“That’s assuming they would, which they wouldn’t.” Parslie pointed out. “My father certainly wouldn’t, even if Lux and Aven would agree to it. As to your fighters, all of them took minor wounds, we’ve got some concussions, and the major wounds are pretty much seen too. A couple of them acted like your idiot there-”

“Hey! That’s your grace, the idiot!” Remus protested. 

“And their wounds are more serious for them having concealed it.” 

“We know who’s going to die in a zombie movie now.” Virgil mumbled into Roman’s chest. 

“Is he okay?” Logan asked. 

“Yeah.” Roman stroked Virgil’s hair- gently because his arms still ached from the battle- even with the leather armor instead of the partial steel he used in list combat, everything had been heavier and more intense. “Patton just lay a calm on him because he was having a panic attack while Aven was trying to tend his wound. I think it did something with the end of adrenaline poisoning because he’s staying pretty loopy at the moment.”

“It shouldn’t’ve.” Patton said, concerned. 

“I’m good, poptart.” Virgil mumbled. “Just… no worries.” 

There was a pause, and then she continued. 

“One of the mounted squad’s horses died, and they’re emotionally distraught over it, but since it fell on their leg and broke it when it died, we’re trying to focus on that.”

“Offer them the pick of the horses we captured.” Roman suggested. “It’s not going to replace their horse emotionally, but they’ll still be able to keep up with their friends- er- squadmates. No wait, I’ll do it tomorrow. I want to visit the wounded.” 

“Very good.” Parslie said, sounding a bit like a pleased teacher. “As dangerous as it is, you should probably stay here and rest your wounds for a few days.” 

“Wait.” Janus lifted his face. “Erin and John said- the messenger. Have we located her?” 

Parslie frowned. “No.” 

“Fuck.” he put his face back down. “If we don’t locate her in the next few days, I’d have to assume she’s been captured or killed.”

Roman frowned, she’d been maybe sixteen by his guess. While fifteen was more than old enough to pick a career here, and sixteen fine to hold a job, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they should be in school, not in danger. He sighed. 

“Is there anything else?”

“Several of the defenders from Amber lake have decided to join the resistance. Apparently the Mage’s Circle has been busy, because a combat-Marked Mage has shown up in many towns with heavy resistance activity and joined, linking them together with message spells. Sadly a little too late for this swaray. The ‘surrendered’” she dropped air quotes around that to Roman’s surprise “soldiers seem to think that about the same numbers as their company would also reconsider their orders if faced with the information about the return of the Crown Prince.” 

“Can we do more to spread that?” Roman asked. 

Remus grunted and turned his head to face Roman.

“I think you’re doing your part in that. At this point; the people who have met you should have the whisper campaign going at full force.” 

“Remus is right.” Logan agreed, perched on the side of the bed, as there were no chairs in the tent. “I think that part is well set at this point. If you push much harder, you may be recognised on the street, which would make movement difficult.”

Roman huffed, but had to agree. He’d gotten a couple of double takes while they were in Inslet. He wondered if this was what being famous was like. 

“So, congratulations on your first victory, Roman.” Parsie said encouragingly. “But we can only keep moving forward right now.” 

“One step at a time.” Roman agreed, and closed his eyes. 

During the night, a pair of the less wounded prisoners tried to escape, resulting in them getting more wounded by an over enthusiastic guard. Frankly that was better than Roman could have hoped. He was remembering more of the battle now, and he was pretty sure that the blow to his head that had given him armor bite across his nose and just below his temple had come from a spear. He was also sure that he’d broken the spear that had done it. He was getting stronger. Roman wished he could feel proud about that. He still felt a little bit numb, even as he smiled and talked to the wounded. Roman especially wanted to thank the mounted squad, who had apparently helped Virgil. In stories if you did something heroic you got knighted, but that would have to wait for later, he supposed. 

Virgil was with him, helping him focus when thinking about it got too much and he started to feel foggy. Over the course of the morning it happened less and less, so when Virgil wanted to rest his leg after lunch Roman insisted he do so. As a non vital walking wound the gash on the outside of his thigh was on the secondary tier of getting what little magical attention was available; witches and Aven could do some, but not a lot, and Janus had strained his healing magics to the limit the day before and was resting with Remus. Apparently the ruined Mark on his face made it harder to channel magic, especially disrupting his ability to tell how much was too much. 

When Virgil walked into the tent, Remus was sitting up with Janus in his lap, and they were making out. That was the only way to describe it, arms around each other and kissing deeply, mouths open, eyes closed, and focused on eachother. Virgil would have turned around and left, except that Logan was also still in the tent, having been supplied a travel desk and chair finally, probably from the supplies the company had been carrying. Roman was going over the captured goods with Parslie who had a better grasp on supply. 

“What the fuck?” Virgil said, and not particularly quietly. Neither Janus nor Remus particularly, reacted, though Remus dragged his hand over Janus’s hair, smoothing it up and out of the way. 

Logan sighed, and Virgil plopped down on the end of the other bed. 

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I’m condensing the battle report and copying it over for distribution. I talked to Roman this morning, and he gave me a basic header to add to it, but he’ll need to sign them. The desk I’ve ‘borrowed’ has a few fountain pens, so he may adopt one for a while.” Logan said, looking over at Virgil. 

“Whoa, way to keep busy. Not what I meant though?” 

“Oh” Logan rolled his eyes. “... as I understand it they’re ah… sharing a pain killer.”

“What.” 

“Aven came by with some little blocks of some sort of herbal pain killer, that one is supposed to let dissolve in one’s mouth, and he gave one to Remus, and not Janus.” He glanced back and made an exasperated noise. “They seemed to recognise it, so… compromise.” 

“That sounds like a transparent excuse.” Virgil snorted, and lay down nabbing a pillow to prop up his sore leg and another for his head, keeping his head down near Logan. If they kept talking they wouldn’t have to listen to it, but Virgil couldn’t think of another place that was safe to rest, so he was stuck with it. Logan went back to what he was doing. 

“Hey, L, can you pass me the lute?” 

Logan paused, and got the instrument from the pile of saddlebags that comprised their belongings. Bringing it over, he watched Virgil uncase it and check the tuning. Shortly he was playing a tune that sounded vaguely familiar, and masked the small sounds coming from the other two. 

“Ah.” He smiled at Virgil, who smugly raised an eyebrow. Logan sat back down, and listened to the music as it drifted from song to song while he worked. 

After about three songs, he glanced back at Virgil, and the way he was laying.

“It just occurred to me, as you didn’t say anything, are you in pain?” 

“Not joining in on  _ that _ .” Virgil snorted. 

“Of course not.” Logan opened the top of the travel desk and took out a small jar. “Aven gave me the rest.” 

Virgil stared at the small jar, filled with small brown squares. 

“... I’m pretty sure that’s pot candy.” 

“Refined cannabis would do the job.” Logan looked at it himself, he’d never seen any before. Virgil wrinkled his nose at it thoughtfully, glancing over at his depleted first aid kit. Despite his overstocking of it before he left, the months had worn on it, and he had only a few doses of painkillers left, and that was just aspirin and ibuprofen. Something occurred to him. 

“If you have that, why-” He nodded at the pair.

“And ruin their fun?” Logan asked, covering a small smile. 

By the time Roman and Patton returned, Remus and Janus had stopped and were just laying in a cuddly, and semi conscious pile. Remus was stroking Janus’s hair and Janus was tracing his fingers over Remus’s shoulders. 

“So I’ve been thinking-.”

“A dangerous habit.” Virgil drawled. 

“I know.” For a moment, Roman posed in an over the top thinking pose, then relaxed. “I don’t know the full range of the resistance, it’s set up that way, no one is supposed to know all of it, but I’m starting to get the impression it’s bigger than I expected.” he paced back and forth between the beds. 

The tent wasn’t that big, frankly with perhaps a thirteen foot square footprint, the walls sloping slightly upward, a central pole that broke into multiple pieces, the top held out with an arrangement that reminded Roman of a huge umbrella. It barely held the two beds and low cot Patton had slept in, Logan’s writing desk pressed against the center pole, to leave the space Roman was pacing in. It would have seemed bigger, he was sure if they didn’t have so many people in it. They were definitely more crowded than say, the prisoners, who were being held in the threshing barn, the horses regulated to a makeshift paddock at the edge of town. 

“You wanna calm down, Princey?” Virgil drawled. “You’re supposed to be resting too, you know.” 

“I think we have to be more active.” He said firmly. “It’s time we did something. Just… existing isn’t enough. If I’m serious about this, about being the prince Sanders needs, I need to act like it.” 

“I think you’re doing a fine job.” Logan objected. “I thought that it was clear if the rebellion moved harder more people would be hurt, and we- you were trying to avoid that.” 

“Maybe so, but there’s only so long we can put it off. It only gives them more time to prepare as well.”

“Mnn. Hope you’re not plotting without me.” Mumbled Remus, not opening his eyes. “Evil plots are totally my thing. And Violence. Don’t plan violence without me. I want in on skull-fuckin’”

“Ick.” Mumbled Janus, though he sounded like he was agreeing. 

“I’m just talking about disappearing some army patrols; maybe replacing them with our people? Would that work?”

“Until they had to check in.” Patton said. “Though if we could get some of the patrols on our side…”

“I’m not getting the impression that a lot of the soldiers join out of patriotism, just as a job.”

“If it’s not patriotism, they’ve got no reason to prefer you.” Logan pointed out.

“Oh.” Roman deflated a little bit. 

“You don’t kill a snake by nibbling on its tail.” Janus mumbled. “You cut the head off and wait for it to stop thrashing. I’m hungry.” he added as almost a non sequitur. 

“I got something you can eat.” Giggled Remus. 

“Stop.” Janus retorted, but didn’t move from where he was lying on Remus’ good shoulder. 

“I doubt making plans when two sixths of your planning group is  _ high  _ is going to be terribly effective.” Logan sighed. 

“Maybe not.” Roman said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a point.” 


	10. .Book Ten.

They had to move on from Amber Lake, and returning to Victory’s Head wasn’t the best idea either. Parslie would return home with a few prisoners, the ones who could not be convinced, including Sir Abber. The majority of the soldiers would disperse with the resistance, and would do their best to convince others soldiers to join them. The twin princes and their makeshift court disappeared into the countryside. 

Which sounded good, though they were more hopping from large town to large town, occasionally even staying in the homes of nobles who supported them.

They were there in a hunting lodge hidden in the thick woodlot of a Earl’s land, it had been almost a month since the battle at Lake Amber, and while rumors were flying it was definitely time to make something else happen. 

Logan lay his notes and a map of Sanders out on the table. 

“The logical thing to do would be keep consolidating power. Perhaps even seek allies from other Kingdoms, such as Terainc, Snoaj, Valerian or the Taylen Islands.” Logan tapped their locations on the map. “We know the usurper knew we were on Crescent Island, and I think by now he, and or his advisors will be aware of Roman and Remus’s presence in Victory’s Head.” he marked the other two locations. “He may or may not know of your alliance with Pyrion, which is a jumping point for the lands to the east.” 

“Well, let’s hope not for Orpheus’s sake.” Roman said. 

“If we wanted to gain allies and support outside the kingdom, we’d want to cause a ruckus as the rebellion.” Remus leaned on his elbows on the table. “Plus formal letters about the dragon and Roman’s return.”

“I um. Did that.” Roman said. Remus blinked at him. “After the battle at Lake Amber. I wrote and sent letters with the proof we had about the Dragon and introducing myself to Sanders' traditional allies. I figured it had to be me.”

For a moment, Remus looked almost hurt that Roman hadn’t talked to him about it first, but then he grinned.

“Lookit you all take charge and thinkin’.” he ruffled Roman’s hair.

“Cut it out, I’m older than you!” Roman swatted his brother’s hand away. “So, ruckus? We distract the army all across the country? We don’t have the troops to do that _and_ march on Min’s Cape.” 

“I think blockading Min’s Cape would give the wrong impression.” Patton said nervously. 

“As opposed to what?” Janus asked. 

“It doesn’t matter, because it would take more troops than we have to do that, even with the Mage’s Circle helping, not to mention there are a lot of people there that don’t really have a say in what goes down in Sedis Maoths.” Roman pointed out. “But like Logan said, that would be the _logical_ thing to do. So what would be the most illogical thing?”

“I haven’t even heard your plan and I already hate it.” Logan said blandly. Roman grinned at him. 

“You love me.”

“You, perhaps, your strategic ideas, less so.” 

“Let me open by pointing out- where is the place, logically, that I’d be least likely to head?” 

“Oh no.” mumbled Virgil

“Sedis Maoths.” Roman confirmed, pointing dramatically at the map. 

“I will give you that it is a big city, Roman, but that’s still where the palace is. You know, where the usurper lives?” Janus pointed out. 

“Has it occurred to you that’s the point?” Roman retorted. “He could chase us down like wack-a-mole until he gets us running where he can catch us, or we could charge the ambush.” 

They’d had a few close run ins with patrols, and they were getting more and more frequent. The last one had involved a Marked Mage that would have overwhelmed them if it weren’t for Logan’s uncommonly high magic resistance. 

Experiments with Patton had proven that if he knew a spell was coming, he had an excellent chance of throwing the effects off almost immediately. After Logan had taken the mage down they had found a dragon’s blood stone embedded in the mage’s tattoo- and the site was barely healed, indicating that it had been done recently. 

There was silence as everyone at the table thought this through.

“Very well.” Logan said. “What did you have in mind?” 

“So glad you asked.” Grinning, Roman pulled out a roll of papers and spread it out on the table, outlining his plan. 

“I was right, I hate it.” 

“The worst part is how much thought he’s clearly put into it.” Virgil agreed, looking over it. “No, wait, the worst part is if I saw this plan in a book or a movie, I’d be all for it.” Logan groaned in agreement. 

“Well if Charlie Downer and the Fussy Professor don’t see a problem with it-”

“Hold up, I didn’t say there weren't problems with it.” Virgil protested, as Logan said 

“I still have multiple questions;” 

Janus meanwhile was shuffling through the building plans Roman had acquired, frowning a bit. 

“Beyond that-” Patton broke in as Logan and Virgil talked over each other, trying to point out the weak points, often agreeing with each other in a way that sounded like they weren’t. “Roman, I know we’ve talked about using nicknames like that. I know you mean them in an affectionate way, but it still sounds mean.” 

The table went quiet at the sudden reprimand. Roman rocked back and forth on his feet. 

“Sorry, Mr. Foster.” he mumbled, then shook his head. “No, you’re right Patton, I’m sorry.”

“I’m used to it,” Virgil dismissed it. “I’ve been dealing with his sense of humor for almost a decade.” 

“Honestly, half the time I’m not sure who he’s talking about.” Logan admitted. He paused. “... though perhaps Roman should break the habit before he accidentally insults someone by saying something they don’t understand.” 

“...That didn’t even occur to me.” Roman’s eyes widened. 

“Yeah, only insult people on purpose.” Remus threw in. “Like if I called Logan a dork it’s probably because I’m thinking about his pe-” 

“There are a couple of gaps here, but you’re not necessarily wrong.” Janus broke in. You’re probably right about a demonstration drawing the extra guards out of the palace, but keep the council where they were.“

“One of the big problems is the lack of a schedule that the usurper has. It makes it hard to be sure where he’s going to be at any given time.” Roman admitted. “But I did get a good list of ‘likely’ places. The staff at the palace are really nervous, and play things close to the chest.”

“Prawning.” Logan nodded. “It makes sense, even if it does leave us with very little information about Cadmus.” 

“Wait what?”

“Isn’t that an idiom?” Logan asked. “My apologies.” 

There was a brief pause as everyone tried to get their brains back on track. 

“Anyhow, I think it’s a great plan.” Remus said. “I’ve been getting pretty sick of dick-footing around,”

“I’m fairly sure that’s not how that goes.” Logan mumbled weakly.

“It’s gonna need a little prep time to get the support in place, but you know what, I think it’s time.” 

“I think we’ve got enough Marked Mages spread around that the basic plan can be distributed that way.” Patton had produced a crystal ball approximately two inches in diameter, made out of some sort of rutilated quartz, mostly clear but full of inclusions, which he stared into thoughtfully. 

Roman looked exceptionally proud of himself. He’d been working on this idea for several days, but he was fairly sure it would be pushed aside as ‘too dangerous’. He pointed at the map. 

“Alright then! We attack Sedis Maoths.”

“Roman if you stick that knife into the map I will _skin you_.” Logan snapped. 

“And I’ll hold you down.” Virgil supported. 

“Way to ruin my dramatic moment.” Roman mumbled, returning his knife to his belt sheath. 

Min’s Cape was a fairly large area, allowing for the sprawl of the capital city, which like The Circle’s Center was made of great white and gray buildings, with carved and painted details. The palace of Sedis Moaths, named for the king of Sanders that founded it, was mostly golden sandstone, visible above the city on a large patch of headland. There was a construction of a new tower being built to the rear, this one of black basalt which looked very dramatic. 

Entry to the city was somewhat restricted with the increased rebellion activity, but it was easy enough to slip in with the right bribes at the right time. The approach to the actual palace was a little harder, the approach full of temples and noble houses getting more elaborate the closer they got to the innermost castle. The central palace was nothing to sneeze at itself, having plenty of room for visiting nobles, resident nobles, officials, and servants. Most of the innermost workings of the government took place inside the curtain wall, in attached halls. Notably the House of Council which looked more like a small cathedral than anything else, and house the council chambers as well as a vast library of records. 

They entered the city in pairs, divided into groups of one native of Sanders, and one of the imports. Roman had agreed wholeheartedly that he counted more as the latter than the former. He’d adjusted beautifully, mind sometimes throwing small traditions that made him fit in better than Logan or Virgil, but he was still a bit awkward. So he could only bid his loves goodbye with an extra ‘good luck’ for Virgil who had drawn the short straw as it were, and had been partnered up with Remus. Remus and Roman obviously couldn’t enter together; bribes and disguises aside, they really couldn’t hide their nearly identical appearances. Twins would be too obvious, so they couldn’t be paired. 

Remus had tried to trade Virgil for Logan, but Logan and Janus had already started making plans- with the two of them together, they would make the best entrance from the mainland, while the other two sets could just as easily take boats in- which would also make it easier to smuggle their arms and armor in, while Logan and Janus had none of either to speak of. Their plan was to enter as a married couple- Janus disguising himself and his noticeable scar by donning the dress of a particular religious cult who covered their faces in public. After a bit of discussion, Logan decided to do so as well, which added another layer of disguise as he was exceptionally nearsighted, and a wife leading her mostly blind husband was the kind of thing that made people look the other way. 

Patton’s large spell repertoire didn’t really include any disguises. But Janus could encourage hair growth, giving Roman and Patton light beards before the groups parted. A tinted hair grease darkened both of their hair as it was twisted back into elaborate curls, a style particular to Loque, an island off the western coast, who luckily enough also practiced decorative tattoos, not giving Marked Mages any kind of special attention. Between the heavy feel of the grease and the itch of the beard, it was easy enough for Roman to subdue his cheerful personality into a surly affect. They took the majority of their luggage and joined a merchant ship north of Min’s Cape. 

Virgil and Remus bickered constantly, as Remus came up with more and more theatrical ideas for them to attempt; but in the end it was simple. After Patton and Roman had left to catch their ride. Remus picked up a mandolin that their host had lying around the hunting lodge, tuned it by ear, and after stretching his fingers out, played an intricate melody. He didn’t even look at his hands, maintaining eye contact with Virgil the entire time. Virgil had immediately examined his hands and discovered among the scars and calluses a definite set of musician’s calluses, softened only slightly by disuse. 

A pair of brightly dressed bickering minstrels breezed into the city after offering to play an impromptu set for the bored gate guards. That done, they were free to wander off into the crowds of the city, to find employment. The Guards agreed that the flamboyant pair would probably not have too much trouble, but other than having a bit of music caught in their heads for the rest of the day, didn’t think of them again. 

They were bickering again when they arrived at the trade entrance of a noble’s town house, just on the far edge of the temple district. The Lord and Lady Strigiform had just recently returned to the city, and were rebuilding their household. 

“I cannot believe you.” 

“I feel pretty, Coonie. I may never go barefaced again. This is officially my favorite import; we ‘ve got makeup but nothing like this.”

“I mean you picked a color I don’t wear, but you still could have _asked_ first, Poss.”

“But you woulda said no!” 

“Of course I’d say no! It’s not sanitary! Look at you! I feel like I could catch a venereal disease by sharing hats, let alone eye makeup.” 

“That’s not what you said last night~” he teased. 

“Ugh-First off, I was drunk, and as you’ll recall the next thing I said was ‘whooa wait you stink.’”

“You’re just intimidated by my manly funk.”

“I was talking about your cologne.” 

The servant that was leading them snorted, shaking their head, and opened the door, letting them go into the study. 

The lady of the house rose as they came in, wearing a long green and cream gown. 

“It took the two of you long enough.” 

“Oh wow!” Remus bounded forward, sweeping his hat off, and reaching out to take and kiss the lady’s hand, dropping to one knee. “Don’t you look lovely. M’lady.” 

Remus was clearly not the only one to dabble in makeup, as Janus’s scars were barely visible, hair twisted back in an updo skewered with several decorative pins. Janus smirked.

“Thank you; I am enjoying the chance to indulge.”

“Have I been using the wrong pronouns?” Virgil asked. “Also, are we keeping up the act at this point?” 

“Maaaybe.” Remus purred, turning Janus’s hand to push the sleeve up enough to kiss their pulse. “I’ve always wanted to seduce the lady of the house.” 

“You may need to try harder, the lord of the house is quite pretty.” Janus smirked. “But you’re welcome to try.”

“I’ll get him too.” Remus smirked back. 

“Janus says it’s flexible, and largely situational.” Logan entered behind them. “But yes, it’s safe here.” 

“Gender is largely performative.” Janus sniffed, as Remus laid loud theatrical kisses up their arm. “It’s not terribly important.” She took Remus’s face between her hands before he got to her neck. “Behave, and I’ll tell you you’re pretty too.” 

Remus beamed at her. 

“Now close your eyes.” 

“Don’t mess up my makeup!” Remus chirped, shutting his eyes to allow Janus to kiss his eyelids. When he opened his eyes, the brown that had disguised them was gone, leaving the striking garnet that was Remus’s semi-natural eye color. Janus brushed a thumb under one of his eyes. 

“Now there’s my pretty thing.” she cooed at Remus. “This is nice makeup.” 

“I know right?” Remus ignored Virgil’s glare. “So, any word on the other two?” 

“Any day now.” Logan replied. “I was just talking with some of the staff when you two arrived.” He shook his head, smiling a little. “The blue brings color to your eyes, by the way.”

“Oh stop.” Virgil hunched up a bit. He was wearing the same sky-blue and pink minstrel’s costume he’d had in Inslet, with the added frustration of Remus wearing a matching one, only with dandelion yellow trim instead of pink. The blues were slightly different, but they were definitely a brilliantly colored pair, like crass bluebirds. 

“Though personally,” Logan said, a little smirk creeping onto his face. “I would like to hear these fine minstrels we hired play, wouldn’t you, my coils?” 

Janus laughed into her hand. 

“I can’t believe you’re sticking with that; But yes, I think I would.” She swept back and returned to her seat, leaving Remus just sort of reaching out after her. 

“Welp, you heard ‘em, Coonie.” Remus shrugged, pulling out the mandolin, and hooking a cushion to sit on the floor at her feet, as Logan sat beside Janus. “Gotta earn our bread and bed.” 

“I hate all of you.” Virgil grumbled, uncasing the lute, and dropping down beside him. “Lovesong, Poss?” 

“Let’s go.” 

The servants at the house were, of course, more resistance members. The original owners of house Strigiform were also members, and the mostly empty manor had been a pass through for much information coming out of Sedis Maoths. They didn’t venture out, staying inside. Within three days of the arrival of the minstrels, a merchant and his bodyguard, old friends and a trade interest of Strigiform came to visit, along with a crate of fancy goods, mostly brocade from Loque Isle, samples from a new mill. 

“Nobody touch me.” Roman growled when he arrived, startling everyone. “I am _disgusting_.” 

“He had a hard time.” Patton tried to soften the annoyance. He looked a little worn and grimy himself. “Loque Island has some unique cuisine, which the crew was big on. And the sailors took it on themselves to… uh… tease Roman a bit.”

“‘Tease’.” Snarled the normally good tempered man. “That’s a word for it. They put tar in my hair, Pat.” His hair had a slick, almost lacquered look to it. “I swear that guy Queg was sizing up my ass and not in a good way.” 

“Yeah, some boats are like that.” Remus admitted. 

“They also tried to talk him into getting a tattoo.” Patton said. He didn’t look much like himself, the bright blue of his eyes, and the curls of tattoos visible at the edge of his clothes the most recognisable bits. The disguise had turned his silver hair a tarnished steel gray, and he looked exhausted. 

“Okay, that part I’ll call teasing, but it was just _hurtful_.” Roman pouted. 

“Well I have good news.” Janus offered. “A messenger came to see us when your ship was spotted. The bath house is ready for you.” 

“Oh thank gods.” Roman Moaned. “I would kiss your hands, but I don’t want to contaminate you.” he blinked a few times. “... that’s a nice dress.” 

“My other clothes are in your crate. Though given your experience, I may get them laundered first.” 

“Not a bad plan.” 

After giving Roman an hour to himself, Virgil joined him in the bath house, finding him desperately trying to tease the combination of grease and tar out of his hair. Patton was scrubbing at his own hair, but hadn't been subjected to the sailor's hazing, having been perceived as an older gentleman, rather than a youth. 

Roman tried a smile at Virgil, which looked a little odd, since he hadn't gotten a chance to shave yet, and the beard was not a look Roman had ever tried, even if it was now dark red brown instead of just brownish black. 

“Hey.” Virgil said gently. “Apparently, Poss had something similar happen to him once, and no one told him how to get it out until he’d shaved his head.” 

“You’re not going to shave my head are you?” Roman glanced over to the toiletries kit open on a nearby bench. The gleam of light off the straight razor was purely in his head he was sure, since it had already occurred to him. 

“No, we need you to look your best.” Virgil reassured him. “But there’s this kind of greasy soap that bonds with the tar they use, and washes out.” He held up a jar. “They use it on fabric too. Sit down, I’ll give you a hand.” Getting Roman settled on a bench, Virgil rinsed the soap he’d been struggling with out of his hair, picking a few clumps of tar out before pouring the soap out into his hands and working it into the mess in front of him. “So other than that, Mrs Lincoln, how was the play?” 

“Could have been better.” Grunted Roman, leaning forward, bracing his arms against his knees. “I was worried about you.”

“Hey, that’s my job. Though your brother did a great job of keeping me too busy to really get into it.” he snorted, pouring more soap into his hands, and rubbing Roman’s hair between them. “Wouldn’t have predicted this, so that’s anxiety for you.” He was pleasantly surprised at how the thick oily soap soaked into Roman’s hair, loosening the mess. When Remus had handed it over, Virgil was half sure it was some kind of continuation of the joke. It smelled like a Christmas-scented candle now, thick and piney. He scraped his nails over Roman’s scalp and he sighed happily. 

“I can worry about you if I want to.” Roman mumbled. “For one thing, you were stuck with my brother.” 

“Well, other than stealing my eyeshadow pallete, he wasn’t that bad. Did you know he could play an instrument?”

“Mnn no.” Roman moaned a little as Virgil continued rubbing outward from his scalp. “S’not too surprising I guess, that’s the sort of thing a gentleman is supposed to know. Is he any good?”

“Well, not as good as me. But more confident so it’s hard to tell.” Virgil rubbed some soap onto a patch of black sticky tar on Roman’s neck. He gave another happy little moan. 

“My darling nightmare-gale, I am sure you’re more skilled. You’re certainly playing me like an instrument.”

“Gross.” Virgil teased. “It’s like you like me or something.” 

Roman gave a little laugh and leaned forward, letting Virgil rinse his hair again. This time most of the mess came free with the water, and Virgil encouraged it to go by combing his fingers through Roman’s hair. He sat on the bench behind him. 

“Here, lean back this time, I’ll get the roots in front.” 

They awkwardly tried a few positions until Roman ended up with his shoulders leaning up against Virgil’s thigh. He started working the shampoo in again. Roman’s eyes were partly open, watching Virgil’s face as he worked, though he didn’t think Virgil noticed. 

“It’s funny.” he said

“What is?”

“How quickly we got used to, you know, this.” he flipped a wrist at the bathing room. “Communal bathing.”

“Well, you did theatre, and that’s like one lice outbreak from a monkey circle anyway,” 

“Hey!” Roman protested, laughing.

“And I took that dance class with Logan, so there was a locker room thing going on there. It’s not like you hadn’t seen me naked before. And it’s… very much not really sexual.” 

“I’m pretty sure we could _make_ it more sexual.” Roman opened his eyes a little more to see Virgil turning pink from the neck all the way up. 

“Still in the room.” Patton said suddenly, and Virgil jumped. “Just… wait until I’m done, okay? Not a voyeur, especially for you two. It would be like… watching my kids go at it.” He was soaking, and had been silent when they talked. 

“You’re only like ten years older than me, Patton.” Roman teased. 

“Still, I know what way I’m fond of you- it’s not like I’m gonna be a Dad the conventional way!” 

“You can’t just adopt people randomly, Pat.” Virgil snorted. 

“Not with that attitude!” he joked. He did finish up quickly, and drain the tub he’d used, throwing another couple buckets of hot water from the boiler into the one waiting for Roman, which was still steaming faintly. Then Virgil and Roman were alone. 

“I was mostly kidding.” Roman mumbled, embarrassed. “I just… missed you. I missed you like my best friend, and I missed kissing you, too.” 

Virgil flushed again, mouth drawing up in a small smile. 

“I missed you too. So, if Remus tells you I came onto him while drunk, I want you to know that it barely qualified as a kiss.” 

“Ew.” 

“Trust me, I know.” Virgil gave a little shudder. “Alright, no more excuses, rinse your hair again, I know you’re just digging the scalp massage.” Roman giggled a little and ducked his head, pouring buckets of warm water under it, until his hair felt normal again. 

“Ah, thank you.” Roman sighed, squeaking his hair between his fingers. “Let me shed about two layers of skin and some terrible facial hair, and I’ll feel like myself again.” he climbed into the tub and settled in. 

Virgil dumped some water over himself, rinsing his shorts clean. “How much do you have to wash to feel like a real boy?”

Roman gave a theatrical gay gasp, and splashed Virgil. “You like me anyway, so what does that say about you?” 

“Bad taste.” Virgil deadpanned. 

“Which also explains the way you dress.” Roman grinned. “C’mon, you’re already wet, join me. What possessed you to get drunk with my brother anyway?” 

Virgil shook his head, but stripped and joined Roman in the tub. 

“I don’t know, after spending a lot of time alone with him, getting drunk seemed the natural response.” 

“If you want to talk to the council before confronting Cadmus, you only have a few openings.” Janus said. 

“That was the plan.” Roman admitted.

“Doing it in the other order makes more sense to me.” Logan had to point out. “Though it would depend on what exactly you intend on doing with the usurper.” 

“Given what I know, kill him. As fast as possible. He might have had something to do with Mom’s disappearance, but I doubt I could get any information about it out of him. He’s a dragon. I’m just one man, and frankly, this adventure has been a little short on enchanted weapons. Being a prince may make me able to break curses, but I don’t exactly get other buffs.” 

Logan and Virgil looked concerned but no one else batted an eye. Logan took a deep breath and shook his head. 

“... my point stands. Starting your negotiations with the Council by putting the usurper’s head on the table is a strong opening stance, with some historical precedent.” 

“Geeze L.” Virgil said, looking shocked. 

“No, wait, he’s got a point.” Janus pointed out. “It’s not like you’re expecting the Council to help you fight him.” 

“That’s true. I was just…” Roman put his face in his hands. “I was just going to be dramatic.” 

Remus patted his brother on the shoulder. “I was looking forward to breaking the table in half with my mace, but we can always save that for a special occasion.” 

“So scrapping the first part of the plan, that means we’ll be looking for Cadmus earlier.”

“He has several different routines that he seems to pick at random, according to the servants in the palace.” Janus said, shuffling the papers in front of her around. Janus had just continued wearing dresses and more feminine hairstyles without comment, and after a few pauses, no one else had commented either. She had stopped wearing concealer over her scars however. They hadn’t even been in the capital a week. 

More than once Roman had found Remus looking out over the city, like he was trying to remember something. When he did, he’d sit next to him, and both of them would just watch the city, the smoke from chimneys and the churning rivers of people barely visible below the temple district that separated the noble’s estates from the city proper. Roman wondered if it was a puzzle he could learn to solve. But that was something that could wait. 

“But still that means there’s a limited number of places he could be.” Janus continued. “We could potentially pick one and wait for him.” 

“Just real quick how much do we care about a fair fight in this case?” Virgil asked. 

“I vote not at all.” Remus put in. “Crush his skull in from behind. Slit his throat.” 

“I… I don’t think I could live with myself.” Roman admitted. “Hitting someone from behind kind of turns my stomach.”

“I’ll do it.” Remus offered. 

“I don’t want that on your honor either.” 

“Ah-” Remus started, and Janus nudged his foot shaking her head. Remus stayed quiet. 

“The best time to get into the palace hasn’t changed.” Janus said in a businesslike tone. “Just after noon. The main force of the guard has eaten then and returned to duty, and we have a man on the inside that will leave the gate from the beach open. Tomorrow, the council will be in session from that time until early in the evening; there’s a scheduled banquet- the changeover from Lion Moon to Youth Moon. That will have extra servants around, but the guests won’t start arriving until the moon rises.” 

“You might be entertained to know that Youth Moon is also called ‘Grain Moon’ because harvests happen primarily during it, and is often associated with the Reckless.” Patton offered. 

“Well. That sounds like a sign.” Roman said, with a half laugh. 

“I don’t see how.” Logan muttered. “I’d like something more concrete than an arbitrary lunar event.”

“Look at it this way, we’re not exactly going to wait around another month here; people would start to notice.” Remus pointed out. “And hey, I’ve always done my due honor to the Reckless. They can throw me a little luck.” 

“If you say so.” Logan said “I’ve… never been particularly superstitious or religious, so I suppose I see it differently.” 

“That’s fair.” Roman said with a shrug. “I didn’t really connect with religion growing up, mythology always made more sense. So religion here makes more sense to me.” 

“Still. If you ever wanted to find a god and pray, now’s the time.” Remus chuckled. “Things are going to get very interesting tomorrow.” 

It was easy to pretend to be unaffected, but in the end, Logan found himself pacing the halls. He wanted to sleep, but found it elusive. Normally he would seek out either Remus or Roman; even Virgil or Janus if the twins were occupied. But with the end of their mission so close, he felt that he should leave both pairs alone. Emotionally, he supposed he could accept that they were interested in him, fond of him even. He certainly found himself fond of them in a way that was intense and often physical. But the part of his mind that tried to apply patterns and logic even in places they didn’t apply well pointed out that they had known each other much longer, allowing for a stronger, more stable relationship. Not that he thought that they lo-liked him any less for it. But still it would be better to give them space. He didn’t even know why he was included in this plan, what was he going to do? Analyze the dragon? Though, in the end, that’s what killed Smaug, the dragon in the Hobbit. A well spotted weakness and a timely message. 

“Hey.” 

Logan jumped a foot. 

“Virgil you are very good at moving silently.” He said, clutching at his chest. 

“You seemed a little distracted.” Virgil shrugged. “You should be sleeping, you know.”

“I could say the same to you.” 

“I think we both know that’s not going to happen.” 

“Hmf.” Logan stared him down for a moment. Then he went over and picked Virgil up off his stockinged feet. He bristled like a startled cat. 

“Logan, what the hell!?” he looped an arm around Logan’s shoulder, the other clutching at the other man’s shirt.

“I'm putting you to bed.” He said. “The last thing we need is Roman waking up and finding you gone and him not being well slept tomorrow.” 

“I keep forgetting how strong you are.” Virgil mumbled. “Anyhow I was looking for you.”

“You were?” Logan asked, confused. “Why?”

Virgil snorted, and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You know what, I’m not going to tell you. You can find out on your own.” 

“Ominous.” Logan frowned, but headed back down to the bedrooms. Once he reached Roman’s bedroom, he expected Virgil to climb down, but instead he just reached out and opened the door. Despite the late hour, the lamp inside was unshielded. 

“Did you find him Virge?” Roman asked, turning to face the door. He snorted. Logan stared, because Roman in the room, but so were Remus and Janus. The large bed was supplemented with an absurd number of pillows and cushions. 

“Look at him, he’s not a raccoon he’s a kitten.” Remus teased. “So cute and harmless.” 

Virgil hissed at him, but still made no move to climb down from Logan’s arms. 

“I am confused.” Logan admitted. 

“Well, I figured since I wasn’t gonna get laid tonight anyway, cuddle party!” Remus said “But the guest of honor was missing, so-” 

“C’mon.” Roman looped around nudging Logan towards the bed. “It’s just very extreme cosleeping. We’d be doing it in a conversation pit, but the ones here aren’t as nice as on Crescent.” 

“Surely there are more comfortable ways to spend the night.” Logan protested. 

“Maybe, but this is better.” Roman grinned, and took his glasses off of him, setting them aside and blowing out the lamp. In moments, Logan found himself bundled between Janus and Virgil, Roman and Remus' arms coming around them to rest on his side, one near the hip, one on the shoulder. “Because no one is left out. I figured if I could get used to platonic bathing, which had never occurred to me, platonic sleeping which I used to do with Virgil wasn’t a big deal.” 

“Ro’s a little bitch.” Remus mumbled, clearly halfway to sleep. “It’s _not_ a big deal.” 

“Sleep well.” Murmured Janus. 

Their approach to the castle frankly sucked. Roman would have preferred if they’d come up with some way to enter, if not through the front gate, then through the trade entrance? But instead they were more sneaking through the back door. 

At some point, some monarch had decided that they wanted a path down to the ocean directly from the palace. Someone else had decided the best way to do that was to cut stairs into the stone the castle rested on. Well, by someone it was pretty clear it was at least one Marked Mage, as the technique and execution was very similar to Circle’s Center, stairs cut into stone, a colonnade surrounding the stairs, with arched pillars and screens cut directly from the stone that made it up, pierced to allow light through. 

Well that’s what it looked like, Roman would admit he didn’t actually know much of anything about stonework, and he was more preoccupied with walking up what seemed like an endless set of switchback stairs and what was to come than figuring out if it was native stone. It seemed to be mostly the same golden-tan sandstone the palace was made of. 

At least it was wide enough they didn’t have to walk single file. Though for the most part no one had anything to say. Roman was not the only person deep in their thoughts. Behind him he would occasionally hear snippets of Virgil humming to himself. Sometimes he’d hear Remus mumbling in front of him. There was the faint sound of the ocean, getting fainter as they climbed. 

Logically it had taken them longer to get to the cove the stairs let out on than it took to climb them- complicated by the fact they had to do so at low tide so they could wade through knee deep water around rocky tide pools and over boulders that cradled it- but it still felt endless by the time the stairs opened out on a small courtyard, tucked between the base of two towers of the castle. Even seeing this little, Roman couldn’t help but feel that the castle was even prettier up close, staring upward at the towers and gables. A very narrow foot path with no guard rail led around the base of one of the towers, and Virgil eyed it with suspicion.

Fortunately there was an inset door in the wall, in what looked like an alcove until they walked up to it. Remus stared at the door for a long moment, then pressed his hand to the doorplate below the knob. His eyebrows drew together. 

“Oof. This is codelocked. I think there’s a deadbolt on the other side, and that’s been opened, but the door is still locked.” He commented after a moment. “Breaking it down is bad right?” he joked. 

“Can you open it?” Roman asked. “Is it like, locked to the royal family?” 

“Wow, that’d be some bullshit.” Remus reported. “I mean, what if the family changed due to some legitimate dynasty switch? Imagine being kept around like Cinderella in your own house to open doors, just because some mage made locks that only open for a certain genetic code.”

“Not recommended.” Patton laughed quietly. “Remus, can I assist? You have the oath code, but if I work through you I can probably unlock it faster.” 

“I guess.” 

“So Remus has an oath to the crown, and that enables him to work the lock; that sounds… a little better than linking it to a family?” Roman said thoughtfully. “... is the crown figurative here, or is it an actually piece of regalia?” 

“Roman, treasure,” Janus said, unbundling what he was carrying “Could this _possibly_ wait?”

“... yes?” 

“Good.” Janus shook out a tabard cloak, in a deep duck's neck blue, and offered it over. “Here.” 

The tabards were to disguise them inside the castle; the same color as the guards and the livery of the servants. There was a faint ‘don’t pay attention’ charm sewn in where the badge normally was. Roman pulled it on and tugged it straight as the others also put them on. They looked like a group of guards. The door clicked open, and Remus pushed in, they all followed. 

The door opened up to a dimly lit but clean hallway that was clearly not used much. As Roman stepped inside the castle he swore he could feel a little pulse of something in his heart, but that could have just been the adrenaline. Remus shut and locked the door behind them. 

“We all remember the map of the palace right?” Roman murmured. The next step involved them splitting up, and he did not like it. But the group of six of them was too big to move unnoticed. 

“Well enough.” Logan agreed. “We meet in the audience hall, as the most likely place to corner him.”

“Corner seems like such a weird word for such a big room.” grumbled Virgil. 

“Still only two main entrances on the main floor.” Remus retorted. “And we’re gonna be blocking off the servants entrances before then. 

“Wish you guys could be wearing armor.” Virgil rocked nervously from foot to foot, chewing on his thumbnail. 

“Wishes and horses,” Roman murmured, because frankly, he wished he was wearing armor himself, but that would make him stand out too much, even with the tabard and spell. For one thing, his armor was bright red with gold tooling- not the most inconspicuous thing on the planet. 

The part of him that wanted to protect screamed as Virgil and Logan slipped out of the hall and turned left. He turned, nodded to Patton, and went the other way. 

While he was nervous, Roman could best describe his mood as bubbling. There was just so much energy in him, from the nervousness for his friends and loved ones, to the oncoming confrontation, to the idea that he was walking towards a fight with the direct intent to kill someone. 

Even if he was a usurper.

Even if he was a murderer. 

Even if he was a dragon. 

The list of his crimes was long, and Roman was very sure that capture was not a good option. He thought that he’d made his peace, but in the moment it was hard. 

Servants and staff moved past them, Roman thought that they wouldn’t pay any attention, but instead they got passing glances, almost thoughtful sometimes. Roman felt lucky that they hadn’t passed any actual guards. 

But when they approached the audience hall, Roman saw two bored looking guards holding short spears- even the broad well lit halls of the palace were no place for a pike, despite the fact that weapons decorated the walls here and there. Between them, life sized statues stood in alcoves, holding the same kind of decorative weaponry. None of them were wearing helmets, but they were wearing crowns, smiling out at passers by with the vague disapproval statues often featured. Honestly, he liked the effect more than suits of armor. The guards perked up as they approached. 

“Hey la.” Said the one on the left “You our relief? We were supposed to be spelled before His Majesty went in. We had morning duty.” 

“Yes.” Roman said with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, there was a mess up down in the lower dining hall.” 

“Figured it was something like that.” Grunted the guard on the right. “At least there were no audiences.” 

The guards handed Patton and Roman the spears they were holding, nodded, and headed off turning down another corridor. 

Roman looked at the spear in his hand, and took a deep breath before pulling open the large door to the audience hall they had been guarding. 

The audience hall wasn’t that big, all things considered; it was perhaps three stories tall, with vaulted arches, and many paned windows letting light in. The top of each one had a pattern in colored glass which cast patches on the floor. It was a bit longer than it was tall. Overall, it was a bit like the nave of a church, without the pews, just open space. Adding to the feeling was a gallery like a choir loft opposite the wall of windows. Dark wooden benches lined the walls, so apparently there was some seating. 

At the other end of the room there was a dais, three steps up from the bare stone floor. A door, made of the same dark wood as the benches opened behind the dais. There were a few cushions scattered around it, and there in the center a throne. It looked wrong, somehow to Roman. Like a set piece from a different play pulled onto stage. It was made of dark wood, so in theory it should have matched the other accents in the room, but it didn’t. It wasn’t a bad throne, and it had a sort of attached desk that clearly swung back and forth, which made Roman hysterically think of college, only rendered in heavily carved mahogany. 

The shimmery silk upholstery was mostly obscured by a figure seated in the throne. Roman walked towards the throne as calmly and quietly as possible, but he still looked up, a sort of lazy and unconcerned expression on his face. 

The Usurper was handsome, an oval face with a strong nose and jawline, heavy lidded hazel eyes accented with expertly applied eye makeup. His skin was a pale almond color, and his long dark hair fell straight back from his face, small braids supporting jewelry, beads and clasps and gems. He wore a high-necked robe, buttoned up under his chin, sleeves tight buttoned with the same tiny golden buttons to his elbow, where it disappeared into open sleeves of the over robe made of rich, shimmering brocade. Embroidery in gold winked at the edges, sweeping down to brush the floor, obscuring whatever he might be wearing under it. 

A broad necklace of plates, each one set with a gemstone lay around his shoulders and smaller golden chains interspersed with winking gems trailed down from it in swoops. A few chains dangled straight down like the tassels on officer’s capes, drawing attention to a belt made in the same style. Several rings- carved in gold and silver, and set with stones decorated elegant, long fingered hands. One even covered the tip of his right pinkie, covering the long, blunt tipped nails that were a polished black. Large earrings in a navette shape were visible, set with a gemstone in the center and decorated with trailing tintibels at their edges. Or perhaps they were hangings off the crown, not earrings, it was hard to tell. The crown didn’t look heavy, just impressive, sweeping to one large point, a kite shaped emerald of dazzling green and the size of a man’s thumb, set in the center, and smaller stones set around the bottom edge, sweeps of chains sweeping down the sides and back, matching the necklace and belt. 

He was magnificent, the picture of a storybook king, the broadness of his shoulders and body language keeping any of it from coming off as effeminate. 

“Is there a message?” he asked, deep baritone voice carrying down the hall. 

“You might say that.” Roman said, and took a deep breath. Reaching up, he undid the pins holding his tabard on, letting it fall to the floor, dispelling the basic disguise, and freeing his arms and sword up, despite the fact he kept a hold of the spear. He continued walking forward, leaving it lying on the floor. “I have business with the throne; I am Crown Prince Roman of Sanders, and you have stolen my country. Cadmus, by my oath to the crown, and right of birth, I will give you one chance to abdicate and withdraw.” Behind him, he could feel Patton dropping his cloak and readying some sort of spell. 

“Really?” Cadmus seemed amused, and slightly surprised. He laughed. “Well how about that.” He looked Roman up and down. “I must say this is a bold move, Roman. What do you expect to happen now?” Behind the dais, the door cracked. 

“Honestly, I’m pretty sure we’re going to fight.” Roman admitted. “Because I don’t see you stepping down quietly, even if I were to offer you amnesty for the things you’ve done.”

“I hardly need it. I, after all, am the king, and you are a sassy lost child.” He chuckled, touching his chest with one hand. “Would you like to hear my terms for _you_?”

“I can’t say I’m really interested in them.” Roman countered. “Since your seat on the throne is stolen, and you have no right to it. You can step down, or I can take you down.”

“By yourself? Don’t you think well of yourself, little prince.” 

“I do my best.” Roman smiled. “Besides, I’m pretty demonstrably not by myself.” He readied the spear. 

“Oh my.” Cadmus smirked. “I suppose I should stand up if we’re going to fight.” 

Roman didn’t think it would work but he reared back and threw the spear, as Cadmus gathered himself.

He was right. 

It didn't work. Almost lazily, the usurper raised a hand, making a circle with the palm, and the spear stopped in the air, two feet in front of him. He closed his hand and the metal point crumpled, then the wood shattered, before falling to the floor. Then he stood, and Roman was fairly sure he was at least a half a foot taller than him. 

He drew his sword, and felt a surge of magic behind him as whatever spell Patton had been casting went up. There was a brief feeling of terrifying disorientation, and Roman discovered that somehow, Patton had transported the leather armor he’d been given from the armor rack in the Strigiform manor directly onto his body. He heard Patton grunt so it couldn’t have been easy. Still he was grateful as he flung himself towards the dias. He was fairly certain that Cadmus couldn’t do the same thing to him he’d done to the spear. 

Whether he could or not, he didn’t. Cadmus blocked the swings of Roman’s sword with the same flat hand gesture, the clangs not quite musical. Roman lost ground as Cadmus walked down from the dais to stand on the floor, even with him. 

“Now how shall I play this?” Cadmus chuckled. “I think perhaps I should call for the guards-”

“It won’t do you any good.” Patton panted. “The doors are sealed.” A quick glance showed a faint cyan glow around the doorway. 

“Oh I see. But am I trapped with you- or are you trapped with me?” he held out his hand, and the spear Patton had dropped flew into his hand. Cadmus looked at it thoughtfully and tutted. “Primitive, but it will do. Come- let’s play, little prince.” 

Of course, thought Roman as he blocked the jabs of the spear. It had to be a pole weapon. He’d improved, but spears and halberds still were the weak point in his defense, and he didn’t even have a shield. Cadmus blocked his attacks, the shaft proving a much sturdier wood than Roman would have assumed given the earlier performance. The sweep of his robes and all the chains were dazzling, so Roman focused on the weapon, until he spotted an opening, sweeping his blade down, forcing a glance off his gauntlet. It missed Cadmus’s body, but tore a rent down his robes, severing several of the decorative chains. 

He pulled back, as if offended. 

“I liked this belt.” he said, almost petulantly.

“Whoopdie do!” Remus careened out of seemingly nowhere, bringing his mace down as if to crush the usurper’s skull. Cadmus reached out and stopped the head of the mace, ripples of the blow’s force going though his body, making the chains and robe tremble as he palmed the spiked ball. Blood poured down from where the spikes had pierced his skin. 

“Ah.” he said. “The Duke.” 

Remus hauled backward against the hold on his weapon, and Cadmus let it go, staring for a moment at his bleeding palm, before looking up at the twins. 

“Two on one is it? Or is it four? Three and a half?” He arched an eyebrow at Janus, who lingered on the dias, half hidden behind the throne. He flicked his fingers, scattering blood that hissed when it hit the stone. “Clever little children with their little magic. You hold a lamp and pretend you’ve grasped the sun.” 

One handed he swung the spear in a wide arc, making Remus, who was unarmored, dance back and striking Roman in the ribs with enough force to send him stumbling, armor scored deeply. His hand lashed out, a single, large drop of blood striking Patton on the face, spattering across his glasses. To Roman’s surprise, Patton screamed, dropping to his knees. It distracted him for long enough that Remus had to crash into him, knocking him out of the way. They rolled across the floor, coming to their feet a few feet apart. Cadmus was looking critically at Janus, eyes glinting more gold than hazel. 

“Aren’t you a lost little cousin.” He reached out his hand, and Remus charged him, bellowing. 

“Hey, I got a lot of anger saved up for you!” 

Cadmus turned his attention back onto Remus as the duke threw himself at him, blocking and dodging like he was dancing. 

Up in the gallery, Logan and Virgil peered down at the fight, uncertain what they could do to aid their friends. They’d automatically covered each other's mouths to prevent the other from crying out when Patton screamed, and were still holding on. 

“Is he moving?” Virgil whispered. Logan peered over the gallery railing, squinting a bit 

“I’m fairly sure he’s breathing?” Logan offered in the same undertone. 

They had been in the gallery for a while, silently observing Cadmus, witnessing Roman’s entrance, and the near magical girl transformation of Patton summoning his armor for him. From where they were crouched, they watched Patton tremble, and that he had sealed the doors in the next breath. They’d seen Remus and Janus sneak in only seconds before that happened, and the door behind the dais seal with the same magic. They didn’t bother looking at the door they’d come through, staying hidden among the cushions, stools and stored instrument cases in the gallery. 

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think, while Logan kept surveying the fight. 

“One could wish,” Logan murmured. “For a bit more armament than a few bits of sharp metal.” 

“Are you thinking a bow and arrow or a glock, L?” Virgil asked, turning to get on his knees. “Because either way, yeah. Throwing knives are pretty great against idiot assholes up fairly close, but here…” He winced, watching the twins continue to fight against the king. Logan suddenly focused on something in the gallery. 

“Virgil…” he said slowly. “Do you remember the storm?” 

“What?” 

“On our way back from Crescent Island, the storm-”

“Yeah the one that had a beat like magic. What about it?” 

“You stopped it.” Logan murmured- “That points to you having magic of some sort.” 

“I don’t think-” There was a tremendous cracking noise, and they turned their attention back to the fight. 

Roman wasn’t entirely sure what had happened.

They had been fighting, and Roman had gotten Cadmus’s full attention, nearly impaling himself in the process, allowing Remus to come from behind- only Cadmus had turned and blasted Remus, sending him flying backwards, across the hall crashing into the enormous wooden doors, still twined with the cyan magic holding them closed- and Remus’s body acted like a battering ram, knocking one and half knocking the other off their hinges, splintering the wood and warping the decorative iron bands that held them together. The cyan magic sputtered and went out. Remus lay limp in the wreckage of the doorway surrounded with arm thick splinters of wood, clothing in tatters. From where Roman stood it looked like some of them were going through him. 

Roman lunged in again, this time scoring a hit that glanced off the thick plates of the necklace, breaking a few more chains, and yanking Cadmus’ attention to him. 

“All that bling is pretty effective as armor huh?” Roman asked, trying not to let his eyes dart over towards Remus. 

“Or perhaps you’re not very effective as a fighter.” 

Roman frowned and renewed his attack, catching a glimpse of red pooling out beneath his brother’s body. A gash opened up Cadmus’s sleeve, and the spear scraped by Roman’s cheek, as he barely dodged. He saw Janus dashing past behind Cadmus, and heard, faintly in the distance shouts of someone noticing that something was happening. He batted the spear aside, and drew another long gash across both the belt and necklace. A few buttons pinged across the floor. 

“I think I’m doing okay.” Roman lied. 

“I never told you my counter offer.” Cadmus purred, not sounding winded at all. “Heir of Sanders.” 

“Pretty sure I told you to save it.” Roman growled. His head ached. 

“But my offer could save your brother.” Cadmus smiled, teeth white and sharp. “You could stay a prince, and play at being a champion and a knight.” he drew his finger along the length of the spear. “Any comforts you needed, your family, your lover, and no responsibility, really. Remain the heir, and be a charming prince.” 

Roman took a half step backwards, bracing both hands on the hilt of his sword, eyes darting around, looking for an opening. 

“What more could you ask for?” 

His mind was fogging like during the battle. That did sound nice. Did he even like fighting? He just wanted to fulfil his oaths, to serve his country, to be the prince. The king’s eyes glinted gold, almost reflecting off the jewelry he wore. There was a sudden discordant sound and he jerked back as Cadmus’s bloody hand reached towards his face. 

“HEY ASSHOLE!” yelled a familiar voice. “FUCK OFF!” 

Roman’s eyes jerked up to the gallery, seeing Virgil holding what looked like a fancy acoustic guitar, one foot on the railing. 

After Remus was sent through the door- the one that was clinging to its hinges was easily four inches thick- Virgil got that weird tinnitus feeling again, like a bug buzzing in his ear while he was trying to sleep. Unhidden by the roll of thunder, it was so strong he could barely make out what Cadmus was saying to Roman. It didn’t matter. Like the storm, he just had to disrupt that damn buzzing offbeat. His hand closed around the neck of a guitar, and he only had to touch the strings to know it was tuned. Virgil popped to his feet, seeing Cadmus reaching towards Roman. 

Unamplified, the sound of the guitar echoed off the walls of the hall. Cadmus glared up at Virgil, and Virgil bared his teeth, letting loose a guttural hiss. The glaring gold eyes flashed red, and the spear pointed at Virgil. Before he could put his hands back on the strings, Logan grabbed a hold of his shoulders and whirled physically putting himself between Virgil and Cadmus. He grunted, and sagged against Virgil, arms still around him. Peering over his shoulder he saw a broad burnt patch on Logan’s back, the edges of the fabric of his doublet and shirt still smoking. Logan’s breathing was labored, and he was plainly in pain, but he was breathing. 

“Oh that is it.” Virgil growled, sliding out from beneath Logan. “You’re in time out, fucker.” 

He didn’t know what he was playing, just not after note after chord, weaving up and out and around, going from his knees next to Logan whose hands were twitching in an effort not to touch where he’d been hit, to standing up and focusing on the gold-glinting figure below him. 

“What do you think you’re doing!?” Screamed Cadmus “You can’t make it do that- it will-” he tried to lash out at Virgil again, this time with his still bloody hand, but nothing happened. His eyes opened fully, color flooding from edge to edge, pupil constricting into a tight line. Roman took the opening, lunging forward with both hands around the hilt of his sword. The blade sunk into Cadmus’s flesh with a sickening sound, Roman’s strength and momentum fetching him up almost against the usurper’s chest. 

The angry red-gold eyes turned on Roman, and he was lifted bodily, hands tearing away from the swords hilt, and tossed in the vague direction of the doorway. His head collided with the stone of the floor, bouncing as he rolled, coming to a stop on his stomach, and raising his head to stare. 

Blood so dark red it almost looked black oozed out from around the sword lodged to the hilt in Cadmus’s stomach, maybe a little right of his navel staining the shimmering brocade of his robe. He looked down at it as well, wrapping a be-ringed and black nailed hand around the hilt and giving it a little tug. The sliding, looping chords that Virgil was playing echoed all around the room, echoing out into the hallway where guards had come running, making everything seem more chaotic. Grimacing, Cadmus reached back, grabbing a hold of the blade that protruded from his back, and twisting his wrist. The blade broke off, just below the quillion, and his back arched as he pulled it through, letting the steel and hilt hit the stone floor in another spatter of steaming blood. Roman scrabbled to his hands and knees, panting, going for the long knife on the back of his belt helplessly. 

“If you don’t want to play,” Cadmus snarled. “Then I won’t either.” He flung his arms out seeming to grow bigger. No- he did. His hand slammed down into the stone floor cracking it. His head tossed, and his neck lengthened. Roman backed up, as Cadmus transformed.

It was one thing to think of a dragon wearing a human form. It was another to watch his human form warp and stretch. When the villains became giant snakes or dragons it was always concealed in the movies. But there were no budget considerations and no rating system. His skin sprouted scales like pinfeathers erupting from a baby bird, smoothing down a moment later. He didn't quite look like any dragon Roman had seen in any movie, either. He had the long sinuous body of an eastern dragon, but with the strong legs of a western dragon, splayed paws tipped in talon-like claws. The muzzle was the twisted horse-snake hybrid that went with the webbed wings that erupted behind his forelegs, flaps connected to the sides almost all the way back to the hind legs. He had a mane of long dark hair, still glinting with bits of jewelry, and chains still wrapped around the base of the dragon’s neck. The mane extended down the ridge of the neck down between the dragon’s shoulders. A tail as long as the rest of him stretched out, lashing, sending the throne crashing through one of the tall windows.

Roman glanced down at the knife in his hand, and up at the vibrantly blue-green dragon, as the golden eyes, almost as big as his head pinned, staring down at him. 

“Fuck.” He said, with feeling. Someone behind him screamed. He glanced over his shoulder, to see a handful of guards, and Janus frantically towing an unconscious and bloody Remus into a corner. His brother’s skin looked unnaturally pale. 

“I need a weapon!” he yelled at the uniformed guards. One of them half offered the spear in their hands, another weakly unsheathed their shortswords, each only half again as long as the knife Roman had but they were already backing away from the broken door. Roman couldn’t blame them. Though, he supposed, facing Cadmus again this was kind of his job. He dodged to the side, aching but still nimble as the dragon’s head came down, snapping at him. He kicked at it half heartedly, frantically looking around. Remus’s morning star was to the side, out of his reach, the spear Cadmus had been wielding was snapped under his feet as he surged forward, making Roman dart backwards. 

“Horrible child-” hissed the dragon. “I had plans, damn it, and now I’ll have to _change_ them...” 

Roman remembered the statues outside the doors to the hall. They had weapons- even if they were old and edgeless, it was better than nothing. The dragon snapped at him again and the toss of his head afterwards threw Roman into the air- fortunately he thought vaguely in the right direction. He landed in the hall, in the midst of the wreckage of the door, and the smears of his brother’s blood. His armor saved him from being impaled on the shards of wood, and he scrambled up, looking back and forth, trying to pick the closest weapon. Instead, one of the statues seemed to meet his gaze. He dashed towards it as Cadmus ripped the damaged door from its hinges, sending splinters flying everywhere, as the dragon tossed it behind him into the audience chamber. His foreleg reached forward after Roman missing and claws striking sparks on the floor. Roman tried desperately not to swear, dashing towards the statue, and reaching for the sword it held, point facing downward, trying to decide the best way to wrest it from the stone fingers. As he reached for it however, the seal ring on his thumb thrummed against his skin, and the stone glowed. The statue’s hands opened, and the sword fell into Roman’s hand. There was a similar red stone set in the cross guard, which had been hidden by the way the statue was holding it. The sword itself was a hand and a half blade, sharp on one edge and the first foot of the blade from the tip. Steel that had seemed dull gray shimmered in the light as he turned to face Cadmus, displaying a ripple like it had been pattern welded or watered steel. Cadmus grabbed at him again, and Roman slashed at the taloned paw, digging in past the scales, making the dragon scream and draw his hand back. 

Janus stared in surprise and confusion from where he was huddled in a corner, hands pressed to Remus’s body. Tears were streaming out of his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. Roman shifted his grip on the hilt, fingers flexing as he moved forward now, instead of away. 

Cadmus snapped down at him, and Roman opened a gash on his snout. He shook his head, spattering steaming blood over the stone and Roman’s armor, pushing away now, instead of stalking after him. Roman pushed his surprise down and moved forward again, the stone in his ring and the stone still glowing faintly. 

“The mage smiths are dead.” Kissed Cadmus, coiling up, and wings spread, making him look like he took up the entire room. 

“Swords last.” Roman retorted. Cadmus hissed at him, baring his teeth, now as long as a dagger. Suddenly the dragon screamed, his head tossing up, and blood spurting from one eye. Glancing over at the gallery, Roman almost laughed, seeing Logan clutching at the railing, one arm supporting himself, and the other extended as if he’d thrown something. 

“Ha!” Laughed Roman, strangely giddy at Logan’s unexpected bravery. Then he screamed a warning as the dragon lunged at the gallery, teeth closing on the wooden railing instead of the men there, and Virgil hauling Logan backwards, towards the gallery entrance. Roman dashed forward and slashed at a leg, dodging around the gout of blood it produced, and dragging the sharp edge along the web of one wing, making Cadmus thrash in pain. Roman was hit by a flailing limb and it knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t lose hold of the sword- it felt almost stuck to the palm of the hand with the ring, but he found himself flat on the floor. He saw the dragon’s maw coming down at him and lunged up towards it, sword clutched tightly in both hands. 

The dragon convulsed again, making a horrible noise, and spewing blood like a storybook dragon would spew flame. Then it slowly collapsed, falling in coils on the audience room floor, blood seeping out and staining the stone red. 

The only sound in the room was the settling of scales on stone and the faint sounds of disrupted masonry succumbing to gravity.

The dragon was dead. 

Virgil was supporting Logan when they came down the stairs from the gallery. The first people they saw were Patton, who had a burn-like splatter on his face, his eyes only saved by virtue of his glasses, which had caught the blood that marked him. He looked positively ill with guilt. Janus had one of his hands pressed to Remus’s chest, slid into his shirt, marking the rise and fall. 

“Are you alright?” he asked hoarsely. 

“Mostly.” Virgil answered. “I feel like shit, I’m gonna be honest, but L’s got some sort of burn on his back, it went right through his clothes. 

“I sent a Mage Message out; it will find the best healer in the city, and call them here.” Patton said. He looked down the hallway, face turning from guilty to disapproving. Virgil helped Logan sit down beside Janus. As he pulled away, Logan grabbed at his sleeve. 

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find Ro.” Virgil said. “I saw what he was doing- he had a magic sword. There’s no fucking way he’s going to die when he can brag about that.” Logan grunted and pulled himself up as well.

“Then I am coming with you-”

“You’re in pain.” Virgil pointed out. “I’m the only one who didn’t get hurt. Janus looks like he’s playing life support for Remus-”

Janus wrinkled his nose. 

“He’ll probably be alright, I’m just… waiting until he wakes up. He may have a head like granite, but he lost a lot of blood.” He didn’t move his arms where they were wrapped around the Duke. 

“Now I just feel guilty.” Remus said without opening his eyes. Janus’s fingers turned into claws, digging into Remus’ shirt, and apparently also his chest hair where his fingers were resting inside his shirt. “Ow ow! I’m still wounded! Ow~” 

“You’re a dick.” Virgil sighed, letting Logan lean on his shoulder again. 

“You are what you eat.” Remus chuckled, eyes opening. It was hard to tell, but his pupils looked a little uneven. “Ro killed the dragon?” 

“Yeah.”

“Awesome. I gotta see this.” It took both Janus and Patton to get Remus on his feet. There was a hole in the thigh of his pants, where a shard of the door had apparently gone right through, but there was also an angry red scar visible, so clearly Janus had put a lot of magic into healing it. Even then he kept his arm around Janus’s shoulder on that side, using him for a crutch. They stepped into the room, and he gave a low whistle. 

“Man, am I glad I don’t have to clean this mess up.” 

Virgil’s eyes darted over the room, looking for any sign of Roman. As Patton fetched Remus’s weapon from where it had been flung against the wall, he started peering under the coils, terrified that he would find a crushed body. As he neared the head, something shifted. Virgil froze, suddenly terrified that the dragon wasn’t dead after all. 

“Hello?” came a voice. “Little help?” 

Diving forward, Virgil grabbed ahold of the dragon’s lips, and yanked backwards, revealing boots. Putting his own foot on the other lip, he opened the mouth further. Roman had somehow lodged himself inside the dragon’s mouth, sword going up through the back of the skull into the brain. He was also a little stuck, because the muscles had contracted when the dragon died. Virgil and Patton had to work together to get him out, and as soon as he was free Roman collapsed on the floor, looking haggard and wet with spit and blood.

“I thought I was going to suffocate.” Roman panted, trying to rub his face clean with equally messy hands. “All I could think was how stupid it was that I’d die being deep throated by a dragon. Especially because it was my own damn fault.” He stared at the scrapes on his boots, and felt lucky as hell. The dragon’s head was only about as big as a horse’s torso- if he’d done it wrong, he would have lost his feet and probably his life. Having apparently weighed the options, Virgil threw his arms around Roman in a desperate hug.

“Oh fuck you smell.” Virgil complained buy squeezed Roman in spite of the mess and the armor. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

“Me too.” Roman clenched his hands in the back of Virgil’s coat. He offered a hand up to Logan, who took it and squeezed. “That was amazing, both of you. I don’t know if I could have done it without you.” 

“Don’t play humble, it doesn’t suit you.” Virgil snarked, letting go and rocking back on his heels. 

“I’m going to admit, when I said ‘toss his head on the table’ I was kind of picturing a human head.” Logan said, staring at the corpse. “Though if you could carry it, it would certainly make an impression.”

“That’s assuming the council is still in their chamber.” Roman said, looking down at the sword that was sitting on the floor next to him. “I think the guards may have warned them of this… mess.” 

“Yes well.” Janus said smugly. “I locked them in.” 

As they approached the council hall, they could see a crowd of guards, trying to open the doors, and heard shouts on the other side. 

“They don’t sound very calm in there.” Roman said, sword propped on his shoulder. The guards wavered, looking at him, and his group. “I don’t suppose you know who I am?”

“You’re… you’re the crown prince.” ventured someone. 

“Very good!” He smiled brilliantly. many of the guards stiffened and looked at him a second time. “And I don’t know if you can tell, but my day has been something already, and I’ve made a bit of a mess in the audience hall. So if you wouldn’t mind stepping aside, I have another piece of business to take care of.”

“You’re…” croaked a guard. “You’re not supposed to take weapons into the Council Hall.” 

“Ooh I like you!” Roman said. “And after today, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, but in this case I think it may make things a little _less_ messy.” He positioned himself in front of the doors, and Janus stepped forward pressing a palm to the lock, before moving back to support Remus. “Now, if you gentlemen wouldn’t mind opening the doors for me?” 

The guard who’d told him about the rule, and the one who’d recognized him looked at eachother, and each took a door, swinging them both wide. There was a crowd on the other side of richly dressed people but they all jerked back as Roman was revealed. 

“Good afternoon!” he sung out. “If you’d all like to return to your seats, I need to have a word with you.” 

“Who do you think you are?” demanded an older man with thick jowls and white hair. 

“Well, for starters, I’m the man with the sword.” He dropped it point first into a rest. “But more importantly…” he looked at the Guard. 

“Uhh… Announcing His Royal Highness, Roman, the Crown Prince of Sanders.” 

Roman shot him a finger gun, and the council drew back further. In the back of the crowd, he saw a flash of smile from Orpheus’s sea green clad form. He turned and sat down in a chair. Someone stared at him, stared back at Roman, then did the same. Some of the older Council members looked like they were about to protest, then Roman took a step forward, and the shied backwards again, and hesitantly took their seats. 

“It is my absolute pleasure to meet you- and if I met you as a child, meet you again.” Roman said, strolling into the room. Behind him the others followed, burdened with something they were carrying, which was covered with one of the disguise capes they’d worn on their way in. “I am indeed, the Crown Prince-” he displayed his seal ring, and went on “I have good news and bad news! Which do you want to hear first?” 

“Bad news?” said someone hesitantly. 

“You chose bad!” Roman sing songed, and through a gap in the chairs, he helped heave the bundle onto the table, then climbed up after it. He whipped the cloak away, and there were gasps and screams as the dragon’s head was revealed. The table creaked. Patton had cast a levitation charm on it so they could move it. Roman braced a boot on it, and started talking “The bad news is Cadmus was and always was, a shapeshifted dragon, and you lot put him on my rightful throne.” He looked around the table slowly, meeting eyes, one after the other. Some of the younger ones looked horrified. “The good news is I took care of that problem.” He chuckled a little bit “At least I hope it’s good news.” 

There was silence for a long moment. 

“Welcome back?” Ventured one of the council members, and Orpheus immediately joined in, though it looked like couldn’t help but smile, which was not particularly the most subtle thing, but Roman doubted people were paying a great deal of attention to him. 

“Thank you.” Roman said, raising a hand- the one not holding the sword still- to indicate they should be silent. “Now I understand that there will be a small period of adjustment, where some of you-” he made meaningful eye contact again. “May not be as privately pleased as you are publicly. Rest assured, I will be reviewing your performance during Cadmus’s reign most carefully.” one or two looked nervous, and Logan made note of their appearances, and their house colors. Roman sighed, and leaned against the dragon’s head. “As we speak, the resistance is taking control of Sedis Maoths.” That had been careful work, recruiting inside the city, and sneaking fighters in, as well as Mages and squads in the country side, including almost a full company dedicated to keeping the garrison nearest to Min’s Cape bottled up. They, like Roman’s party had moved just after noon. He allowed the council to whisper amongst itself, then slammed his sword tip into the table. It made a musical sound as he released the hilt. The council silenced. “Each and every one of you took an Oath to Sanders, just as I did. You will serve Sanders. You will serve me. Or you will be replaced. _Is this understood_?” 

One by one, the council considered the news, compared it to the rumors, and sized up the blood covered warrior in front of them. There were slow murmurs of agreement. 

“Very well. Given the circumstances, the council is recessed for the rest of the day. Please return to your homes, and consider what your oaths to the Crown mean to you.” 

The Councillors left almost immediately practically pushing past the guards and servants who were gathered in the open doorway, watching this all in awe. One or two, including Orpheus approached Roman immediately. Roman, still standing on the table, propped against the Dragon’s head, spared them a little small talk before sending them on their way. He looked at the guards. 

“Where does your loyalty lie?” he asked, trying not to sound as exhausted as he felt. 

“To the Crown?” the same one who’d told him of the rule said. 

“Wonderful! If you would, contact the palace chatelaine- is that the office I want?” he asked Patton, who nodded. “Good, and have them start arranging for repairs. We should have an influx of Marked Mages over the next few days, and they’ll take care of the Dragon’s body, so just put a couple of guards at the end of the halls to prevent people from getting too close. Except for this.” he kicked the heel of his boot against the head. “Have this hung over the castle gate. You’re going to need a few people. Maybe a handcart. And take down the usurpers flag wherever you find it.” 

They hurried to obey, and Roman sagged a little bit. 

“What next?” he asked dully. 

“I think you need to rest, at least a little.” Virgil pointed out. 

“Pardon, your highness?” said a small voice. A young maid, perhaps fifteen stood in the door. “I’m afraid the heir’s quarters aren’t… aired,” 

Patton stifled an only slightly hysterical laugh. 

“But if you would like, they are yours to use. We can clean them, and you can use the royal bathing chambers?”

“That sounds wonderful.” Roman sighed. “What is your name, you delightful creature?”

“Gillian?” she offered, “Your highness?” 

“Gillian, you are suddenly one of my favorite people, please lead the way for us.” He pried his sword out of the table, and hopped down. Gillian gave a terrified little curtsy as he approached, but led them away. 

It wasn’t quite that easy, because of course it wasn’t. Some of the army objected, and especially when Roman announced his intent to bring it down to a smaller level, more suited to a peaceful country. Laws would take years to be dismantled and repealed, not to mention new ones would need to be put in place to protect the rights that had been slowly been being encroached upon. He would probably be years in finding all the nasty surprises tucked away in the country. 

The mages disposed of the Dragon’s body handily enough. Roman suspected, and Patton half confirmed that it would be used as potion ingredients for years. 

Nobles who had privately pledged themselves to him publicly came forward in support, and more followed suit. Between the nobles that supported him and the support of the Mage’s Circle, no one outright claimed Roman wasn't who he said he was, but he still proved himself to people who asked.

And proved himself. 

And proved himself, while keeping an eye on the country, trying to do his best to serve it. Sometimes he felt the only thing that was keeping him sane was the presence of Virgil and Logan, and of course, his Brother’s unique sense of humor, which he would ply on anyone that he felt was pushing their luck. 

Roman never encouraged that, however much he enjoyed it.

Well at least not publicly. 

Still, Roman couldn’t quite bring himself to ask how long Virgil intended to stay in Sanders. When he found his friend packing a bag, including the remains of his first aid kit, he quietly let his heart break. 

“Got a hot date?” he asked, keeping his voice light. 

“Patton, Logan and I are going to head out in the morning. We’re going to the cut at your mother’s Villa. I stole the keys to your Dad’s house, by the way.” 

“Ah.” Roman rubbed the back of his neck. “Gosh, it’s been like … more than six months, hasn’t it?” 

“Yeah. Andy won’t admit it, but he misses us.” Virgil shook his head, frowning at the shirt in his hands. “Man, t shirts are gonna be weird.” he tossed it back into the drawer. He looked up at Roman and frowned. “Okay, spit it out.”

“Spit what out?” Roman protested. 

“You look like I just killed your favorite horse.” 

“I just…” he shrugged. “I’m going to miss you. It’s not like I can go back.” He could hardly disappear now, with everything he had to do. 

“It’s not a big deal” Virgil turned back to his packing. Roman just about choked. 

“I guess.” he mumbled. “Aren’t you going to miss me at all?” he asked. 

“Well yeah.” Virgil admitted. “But I’m only going to be gone a few weeks.”

Roman blinked away the tears that were starting to form. 

“What?”

“I can’t miss your coronation, dumbass. They’ve got a stupid coat for me half finished already.” He looked up and dropped what he was holding “Wait, did you think I was leaving-leaving?” 

“I… “ Roman choked a little bit and hunched. “... yes.” 

“Dumbass.” Virgil shoved him down and straddled his lap. “I have to go get Andy. You promised he could come visit, remember? For your cournation? If I don’t hurry, I won’t be able to get there and back. Logan agreed to get on a boat for this, so we could get there and back faster.” He kissed Roman’s cheeks, then his lips. “Maybe we’re going to be going back and forth for a while, but I’m certainly not planning on going back to work, when I can have a life of semi leisure here. Tumblr’s not _that_ great.” He kissed Roman again a little more intently. “Certainly not better than you, most days.”

“Only most days?” Roman laughed weakly, and kissed Virgil sweetly. “Well, fair enough.” 

“Virgil your brother is being- oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” Logan asked, pausing in the doorway, the purple-bound communication book in his hand. 

“L, get this-” Virgil smirked. “This dumbass thought we were going back to Florida permanently.” 

“What could we _possibly_ have said to give you that impression?” 

“You just… I didn’t realize you were going.” 

“While I’m probably going to end up going back and forth a few times, and I have no idea what I’m going to tell my parents, I don’t have any intent to pick my life back up.” Logan told him, coming closer. “If I tried, Remus would probably come _kidnap_ me, and that would simply be more trouble than it’s worth.” Kneeling on the edge of the bed, be wrapped Roman in a hug from the other direction. “I am sorry we didn’t make our travel plans clear; but you have to admit you have been spectacularly busy of late.” 

“Kinging’s hard work, apparently.” Roman said, reassured. “Have I been neglecting you guys?” 

“No, we understand.” Virgil said. “I mean, if you were the only person I knew here I might be a little iffy, but as is we’re good. I’m getting used to it. And Calm spells are way more effective than any meds I took before.” There was a crash from the next room, and they heard Remus’s voice.

“Logan!” he bellowed. 

“In here!”

“Are your clothes on?”

“Yes.”

“Oh well. I’m coming in.” Remus shoved the door open, practically stumbling over his own feet. “Logan, do you remember where you found the Tangle Trap?”

“Yes. Unless Lyra has gone on a much more thorough cleaning sweep than I expect she has, I should still have the receipt at my apartment, why?” 

Remus ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up and made a visible effort to calm himself down, which made Roman sit up and pay attention. 

“I found a lead on Mom.” Remus said. “I think she’s in a book, like I was.” 

.fin.

**Author's Note:**

> This got massively away from me. I will be trying to organize and post my notes on tumblr, at thebestworstidea in the next few days, and I'll link when I do.  
> I'm super impressed you made it through, this is a brick
> 
> Oh, and it's very important~ This story was originally inspired by: https://fanartfunart.tumblr.com/post/611046004746240000/roman-ok-so-we-have-this-one-regular-at-the-cafe  
> so thank you to fanartfunart! <3 Even though it went off the rails and into the mountains where it roamed free until it got cornered in a cave and had to be carved out of it's overgrown wool, you were the inspiration!
> 
> again check out the art athttps://yikes-virgil.tumblr.com/post/628018457373540352/ts-storytime-heres-my-submission-for-the-sanders


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